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ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

By Roy Chapman Andrews

ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS
CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA

[With Yvette Borup Andrews]

WHALE HUNTING WITH
GUN AND CAMERA

D. APPLETON & COMPANY

Publishers, New York
T245

t« t . . . *•

* c « c
« « t e

A NOMAD OF THE MONGOLIAN PLAINS

ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

A NATURALIST'S ACCOUNT OP
CHINA'S "GREAT NORTHWEST"

BY

gJjudU

ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS

ASSOCIATE CURATOR OF MAMMAI^ IN THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL
HISTORY, AND LEADER OF THE MUSEUM's SECOND ASIATIC EXPE-
DITION. AUTHOR OF "whale HUNTING WITH GUN AND
CAMERA," "camps AND TRAILS IN CHINA," ETC.

PHOTOGBAPHS BY

YVETTE BORUP ANDREWS

Photographer of the
Second Asiatic Expedition

; ii\d ..

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK: LONDON: MCMXXI

COPTHIGHT, 1921, BT

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

raxsnsD in the united statis of

THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO

Dr. J. A. ALLEN

WHO, THROUGH HIS PROFOUND KNOWLEDGE, UNSELFISH
DEVOTION TO SCIENCE, AND NEVER-FAILING SYMPATHY
WITH YOUNGER STUDENTS OP ZOOLOGY HAS
BEEN AN EXAMPLE AND AN INSPIRATION DURING
THE YEARS I HAVE WORKED AT HIS SIDE.

442547

PREFACE

During 1916-1917 the First Asiatic Expedition of the
American Museum of Natural History carried on zoological
explorations along the frontiers of Tibet and Burma in the
little known province of Yiin-nan, China. The narrative of
that expedition has already been given to the public in the first
book of this series "Camps and Trails in China." It was al-
ways the intention of the American Museum to continue the
Asiatic investigations, and my presence in China on other work
in 1918 gave the desired opportunity at the conclusion of the
war.

Having made extensive collections along the southeast-
ern edge of the great central Asian plateau, it was especially
desirable to obtain a representation of the fauna from the
northeastern part in preparation for the great expedition
which, I am glad to say, is now in course of preparation, and
which will conduct work in various other branches of science.
Consequently, my wife and I spent one of the most delightful
years of our lives in Mongolia and North China on the Second
Asiatic Expedition of the American Museum of Natural His-
tory.

The present book is the narrative of our work and travels.
As in "Camps and Trails" I have written it entirely from the
sportsman's standpoint and have purposely avoided scientific
details which would prove uninteresting or wearisome to the
general public. Full reports of the expedition's results will
appear in due course in the Museum's scientific publications
and to them I would refer those readers who wish further de-
tails of the Mongolian fauna.

vii

viii PREFACE

Asia is the most fascinating hunting ground in all the world,
not because of the quantity of game to be found there but
because of its qiiality^ and scientific importance. Central Asia
was the point of origin and distribution for many mammals
which inhabit other parts of the earth to-day and the habits
and relationships of some of its big game animals are almost
unknown. Because of unceasing native persecution, lack of
protection, the continued destruction of forests and the ever
increasing facilities for transportation to the remote districts
of the interior, many of China's most interesting and impor-
tant forms of wild life are doomed to extermination in the very
near future.

Fortunately world museums are awakening to the necessity
of obtaining representative series of Asiatic mammals before
it is too late, and to the broad vision of the President and
Board of Trustees of the American Museum of Natural His-
tory my wife and I owe the exceptional opportunities which
have been given us to carry on zoological explorations in Asia.

We are especially grateful to President Henry Fairfield
Osbom, who is ready, always, to support enthusiastically any
plans which tend to increase knowledge of China or to
strengthen cordial relations between the United States and the
Chinese Republic.

Director F. A. Lucas and Assistant Secretary George H.
Sherwood have never failed in their attention to the needs of
our expeditions when in the field and to them I extend our best
thanks.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bemheimer, who hav€ contributed
to every expedition in which I have taken part, generously
rendered financial aid for the Mongolian work.

My wife, who is ever my best assistant in the field, was
responsible for all the photographic work of the expedition and
I have drawn much upon her daily "Journals" in the prepara-
tion of this book.

PREFACE ix

I wish to acknowledge the kindness of the Editors of Har-
per*s Magazine, Natural History, Asia Magazine and the
Trans-Pacific Magazine in whose publications parts of this
book have already appeared.

We are indebted to a host of friends who gave assistance
to the expedition and to us personally in the field:

The Wai Chiao Pu (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) freely
granted permits for the expedition to travel throughout China
and extended other courtesies for which I wish to express ap-
preciation on behalf of the President and Board of Trustees
of the American Museum of Natural History.

In Peking, His Excellency Paul S. Reinsch, formerly Ameri-
can Minister to China, Dr. C. D. Tenney, Mr. Willys Peck,
Mr. Ernest B. Price and other members of the Legation staff
obtained import permits and attended to many details con-
nected with the Chinese Government.

Mr. A. M. Guptil acted as our Peking representative while
we were in the field and assumed much annoying detail in for-
warding and receiving shipments of supplies and equipment.
Other gentlemen in Peking who rendered us courtesies in va-
rious ways are Commanders I. V. Gillis and C. T. Hutchins,
Dr. George D. Wilder, Dr. J. G. Anderson and Messrs. H. C.
Faxon, E. G. Smith, C. R. Bennett, M. E. Weatherall and J.
Kenrick.

In Kalgan, Mr. Charles L. Coltman arranged for the trans-
portation of the expedition to Mongolia and not only gratu-
itously acted as our agent but was always ready to devote his
own time and the use of his motor cars to further the work
of the party.

In Urga, Mr. F. A. Larsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company,
was of invaluable assistance in obtaining horses, carts and
other equipment for the expedition as well as in giving us the
benefit of his long and unique experience in Mongolia.

Mr. E. V. Olufsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company, put him-

X PREFACE

self, his house, and his servants at our disposal whenever we
were in Urga and aided us in innumerable ways.

Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Mamen often entertained us in their
home. Mr. and Mrs. E. L. MacCallie, who accompanied us on
one trip across Mongolia and later resided temporarily in
Urga, brought equipment for us across Mongolia and enter-
tained us while we were preparing to return to Peking.

Monsieur A. Orlow, Russian Diplomatic Agent in Urga,
obtained permits from the Mongolian Government for our work
in the Urga region and gave us much valuable advice.

In south China, Reverend H. Castle of Tunglu, and Rev-
erend Lacy Moffet planned a delightful hunting trip for us
in Che-kiang Province.

In Shanghai the Hon. E. S. Cunningham, American Con-
sul-General, materially aided the expedition in the shipment of
specimens. To Mr. G. M. Jackson, General Passenger Agent
of the Canadian Pacific Ocean Services, thanks are due for
arranging for rapid transportation to America of our valu-
able collections.

Roy Chapman Andrews

American Museum op

Natural History,
New York City, U. S. A.

CONTENTS

PAGB

Preface • » . • • . * « • ' • vii

INTRODUCTION

Early conquests of the Mongols — Why their power was lost — ■
Independence of Outer Mongolia — China's opportunity
to obtain her former power in Mongolia — General Hsu
Shu-tseng — Memorial to President of China — Cancella-
tion of Outer Mongolia's autonomy .... xix

CHAPTER I

ENTERING THE LAND OP MYSTERY

Arrival in Kalgan — The Hutukhtu's motor car — Start for the
great plateau — Camel caravans — The pass — A motor car
on the Mongolian plains — Start from Hei-ma-hou —
Chinese cultivation — The_Mongol not a farmer — The
grass-lands of Inner Mongolia — The first Mongol village
— 'Construction oi^j/urt — Bird life — The telegraph line 1

CHAPTER II

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT

Wells in the desert — Panj-kiang — A lama monastery — A
great herd of antelope — A wild chase — Long range shoot-
ing— Amazing speed — An exhibition of high-class run-
ning— DiflSculties in traveling — Description of the north-
ern Mongols — Love of sport-^^^Ude^^Bustards — Great
monastery at Turm — The rolling plains of Outer Mon-
golia— Urga during the World War . , • .13

CHAPTER III

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

Return trip — The "agony box" — The first accident — My
Czech and Cossack passengers — The "agony box" breaks

xi

xii CONTENTS

PAGE

a wheel — A dry camp — More motor trouble — Meeting
with Langdon Warner — Our game of hide-and-seek in
the Orient — An accident near Panj-kiang — We use mut-
ton fat for oil — Arrival at Hei-ma-hou — A wet ride to
Kalgan — Trouble at the gate 27

CHAPTER IV

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL

Winter in Peking — We leave for Mongolia — Inner Mongolia
in spring — Race with a camel — Geese and cranes — Go-
phers— An electric light in the desert — Chinese motor
companies — An antelope buck — A great herd — Brilliant
atmosphere of Mongolia — Notes on antelope speed . 38

CHAPTER V

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS

Moving pictures under difficulties — A lost opportunity — A
zoological garden in the desert — Killing a wolf — Speed
of a wolf — Antelope steak and parfum de chamecui —
A caravan — A wild wolf-hunt — Sulphuric acid — The
Turin Plains 50

CHAPTER VI

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA

A city of contrasts — The Chinese quarter like frontier Amer-
ica— A hamlet of modern Russia — ^An indescribable
mixture of Mongolia, Russia and China in West Urga —
Description of a Mongol woman^ — Urga like a pageant on
the stage of a theater — The sacred mountain — The palace
of the "Living God" — Love for western inventions — A
strange scene at the Hutukhtu's palace — A bed for the
Living Buddha — Lamaism — The Lama City — Ceremony
in the temple — Prayer wheels — Burial customs — Corpses
e^ten by dogs — The dogs of Mongolia — Cleanliness —
Food — Morality — *'H. C. L." in Urga — A horrible prison
—Mr. F. A. Larsen 62

CONTENTS adii

CHAPTER VII

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN

PAQI

Beginning work — Carts — Ponies — Our interpreter — Mongol
tent — Native dolhes best for work — Supplies — How to
keep "fit" in the field — ^Accidents — Sain Noin Khan —
The first day — A night in a yurt — Cranes — We trade
horses — Horse stealing — No mammals — Birds — Break-
ing a cart horse — Mongol ponies ..... 84

CHAPTER VIII

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS

Trapping marmots — Skins valuable as furs — Native methods
of hunting — A marmot dance — Habits — The first hunt-
ing-camp— Our Mongol neighbors — After antelope on
horseback — The first buck — A pole-cat — The second
day's hunt- — The vastness of the plains — Development
of a "land sense" — Another antelope .... 99

CHAPTER IX

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAINS ^

Mongol hospitality — Camping on the Turin Plains — An
enormous herd of antelope — ^A wonderful ride — Three
gazelle — A dry camp — My pony, Kublai Khan — Plains
life about a well — Antelope babies — ^A wonderful pro-
vision of nature — Habits — Species in Mongolia — The
"goitre" — Speed — Work in camp — Small mammals . 116

CHAPTER X

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY

An unexpected meeting with a river — Our new camp in Urga
— "God's Brother's House" — Photographing in the Lama
City — A critical moment — Help from Mr. Olufsen — The
motion picture camera an instrument of magic — Floods
in Urga — Duke Loobtseng Yangsen — The Duchess —
Vegetables in Urga 1S3

xiv CONTENTS

CHAPTER XI

MONGOLS AT HOME

PAGH

> The forests of Mongolia — A bad day's work — The Terelche
River — Tserin Dorchy's family — ^A wild-wood romance
— Evening in the valley — Doctoring the natives — A clever
lama — ^A popular magazine — Return of Tserin Dorchy
— Independence — His hunt on the Sacred Mountain —
Punishment — Hunting with the Mongols — Tsamhcu and
"buttered tea" — A splendid roebuck — The fortune of a
naturalist — Eating the deer's viscera — The field meet of
the Terelche Valley — Horse races — Wrestling . .143

CHAPTER XII

NOMADS OF THE FOREST

An ideal camp — The first wapiti — A roebuck — Currants and
berries — Catching fish — Enormous trout — ^A rainy day in
camp — A wapiti seen from camp — Mongolian weather —
Flowers — Beautiful country — A musk deer — Habits and
commercial value — A wild boar — Success and failure in
hunting — We kill two wapiti — Return to Urga — Mr. and
Mrs. MacCallie — Packing the collections — ^Across the
plains to Peking I6l

CHAPTER XIII

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY

Importance of Far East — Desert, plain, and water in Mon-
golia— The Gobi Desert — Agriculture — Pastoral products
— Treatment of wool and camel hair — Marmots as a
valuable asset — Urga a growing fur market — Chinese
merchants — Labor — Gold mines — Transportation — Motor
trucks — Passenger motor service — Forests — Aeroplanes
— ^Wireless telegraph 175

CHAPTER XIV

THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS

Brigands, Chinese soldiers and "battles" — The_Mongolian
sheep — ^Harry Caldwell — Difference between North and

CONTENTS XV

PAGBI

South China — The "dust age" in China — Inns — Brigand
scouts — The Tai Hai Lake — Splendid shooting — The
sheep mountains — An awe-inspiring gorge — An introduc-
tion to the argali — Caldwell's big ram — ^A herd of sheep
— My first ram — A second sheep — The end of a perfect
day 184

CHAPTER XV

MONGOLIAN "aRGALi"

A long climb — Roebuck — An unsuspecting ram — My Mongol
hunter — Donkeys instead of sheep — Two fine rams — The
big one lost — A lecture on hunting — A night walk in the
cafion — Commander Hutchins and Major Barker — Tom
and I gtt a ram — The end of the sheep hunt . . . 205

CHAPTER XVI

THE HORSE-DEER OF SHANSI

Wu Tai Hai — The "American Legation" — Interior of a North
Shansi house — North China villages — The people —
"Horse-deer" — The names "wapiti" and "elk" — ^A great
gorge — A rock temple — The hunting grounds furnish a
surprise — A huge bull wapiti 219

CHAPTER XVII

WAPITI, ROEBUCK AND. GORAL

Our camp in a new village — Game at our door — Concentra-
tion of animal life — Chinese roebuck — A splendid hunt —
Goral — Difficult climbing — "Hide and seek" with a goral
' — The second wapiti — A happy ending to a cold day . 2S0

CHAPTER XVIII

WILD PIGS ANIMAL AND HUMAN

Shansi Province famous for wild boar — Flesh delicious —
When to hunt — ^Where to go — Inns and coal gas — Kao-
chia-chaung — A long shot — Our camp at Tziloa — Native

xvi CONTENTS

PAQB

hunters — A young pig — A hard chase — Pheasants — ^An-
other pig — Smith runs down a big sow — Chinese steal
our game — A wounded boar . . . . , .241

CHAPTER XIX

THE HUNTING PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS

A visit to Duke Tsai Tse — A "personality" — The Tung Ling
— The road to the tombs — A country inn — The front
view of the Tung Ling — The tombs of the Empress
Dowager and Ch'ien Lung — The "hinterland" — An area
of desolation — Our camp in the forest — Reeves's pheasant
— The most beautiful Chinese deer — "Blood horns" as
medicine — Goral — Animals and birds of the Tung Ling
— A new method of catching trout — A forest fire — Native
stupidity — Wanton destruction — China's great oppor-
tunity ^56

Index 271

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING
PAOB

A Nomad o£ the Mongolian Plains . . Frontispiece

Roy Chapman Andrews on "Kublai Khan" .... 8

Yvette Bornp Andrews, Photographer of the Expedition . 9

At the End of the Lorg Trail from Outer Mongolia . . 20

Women of Southern Mongolia . . . . . .21

The Middle Ages and the Twentieth Century . . .34

A Mongolian Antelope Killed from Our Motor Car . . »5

Watering Camels at a Well in the Gobi Desert . , .35

The Water Carrier for a Caravan 46

A Thirty-five Pound Bustard .47

Young Mongolia ......... 47

Mongol Horsemen on the Streets of Urga .... 60

The Prison at Urga 61

A Criminal in a Coffin with Hands Manacled . . • .61

The Great Temple at Urga 72

A Prayer Wheel and a Mongol Lama 72

Lamas Calling the Gods at a Temple in Urga ... 73

Mongol Praying at a Shrine in Urga 73

Mongol Women Beside a Yurt 82

The Headdress of a Mongol Married Woman ... 82

The Framework of a Yurt 83

Mongol Women and a Lama 83

The Traffic Policeman on Urga's "Broadway" ... 98

xvii

XVUl

ILLUSTRATIONS

A Mongol Lama ....

The Grasslands of Outer Mongolia

Mongol Herdsmen Carrying Lassos

A Lone Camp on the Desert .

Tibetan Yaks ....

Our Caravan Crossing the Terelche River .

Our Base Camp at the Edge of the Forest .

The Mongol Village of the Terelche Valley .

Wrestlers at Terelche Valley Field Meet .

Women Spectators at the Field Meet .

Cave Dwellings in North Shansi Province .

An Asiatic Wapiti

Harry R. Caldwell and a Mongolian Bighorn
Where the Bighorn Sheep Are Found .

A Mongolian Roebuck

The Head of the Record Ram .

Map of Mongolia and China, Showing Route of Second
Asiatic Expedition in Broken Lines • • • •

PACINa
PAGE

98
99
116
117
13*
135
148
149
164
165
184
185
185
216
217

225

INTRODUCTION

The romantic story of the Mongols and their achievements
has been written so completely that it is unnecessary to repeat
it here even though it is as fascinating as a tale from the
Arabian Nights. The present status of the country, how-
ever, is but little known to the western world. In a few
words I will endeavor to sketch the recent political develop-
ments, some of which occurred while we were in Mongolia.

In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the great Genghiz
Khan and his illustrious successor Kublai Khan "almost in a
night" erected the greatest empire the world has ever seen.
Not only did they conquer all of Asia, but they advanced in
Europe as far as the Dnieper leaving behind a trail of blood
and slaughter.

All Europe rose against them, but what could not be ac-
complished by force of arms was wrought in the Mongols
themselves by an excess of luxury. In their victorious ad-
vance great stores of treasure fell into their hands and they
gave themselves to a life of ease and indulgence.

By nature the Mongols were hard riding, hard living war-
riors, accustomed to privation and fatigue. The poison of
luxury ate into the very fibers of their being and gradually
they lost the characteristics which had made them great. The
ruin of the race was completed by the introduction of Lama-
ism, a religion which carries only moral destruction where it
enters, and eventually the Mongols passed under the rule of
the once conquered Chinese and then under the Manchus.

Until the overthrow of the Manchu regime in China in 1911,
and the establishment of the present republic, there were no

XX INTRODUCTION

particularly significant events in Mongolian history. But at
that time the Russians, wishing to create a buffer state between
themselves and China as well as to obtain special commercial
privileges in Mongolia, aided the Mongols in rebellion, fur-
nished them with arms and ammunition and with officers to
train their men.

A somewhat tentative proclamation of independence for
Outer Mongolia was issued in December, 1911, by the Hu-
tukhtu and nobles of Urga, and the Chinese were driven out
of the country with little difficulty. Beset with internal
troubles, the Chinese paid but scant attention to Mongolian
affairs until news was received in Peking in October, 1912,
that M. Korostovetz, formerly Russian Minister to China, had
arrived secretly in Urga and on November 3, 1912, had rec-
ognized the independence of Outer Mongolia on behalf of his
Government.

It then became incumbent upon China to take official note
of the situation, especially as foreign complications could not
be faced in view of her domestic embarrassments.

Consequently on November 5, 1913, there was concluded a
Russo-Chinese agreement wherein Russia recognized that Outer
Mongolia was under the suzerainty of China, and China, on
her part, admitted the autonomy of Outer Mongolia. The es-
sential element in the situation was the fact that Russia stood
behind the Mongols with money and arms and China's hand
was forced at a time when she was powerless to resist.

Quite naturally, Mongolia's political status has been a sore
point with China and it is hardly surprising that she should
have awaited an opportunity to reclaim what she considered
to be her own.

This opportunity arrived with the collapse of Russia and
the spread of Bolshevism, for the Mongols were dependent upon
Russia for material assistance in anything resembling military
operations, although, as early as 1914, they had begun to re-

INTRODUCTION xxi

alize that they were cultivating a dangerous friend. The
Mongolian army, at the most, numbered only two or three
thousand poorly equipped and undisciplined troops who would
require money and organization before they could become an
effective fighting force.

The Chinese were not slow to appreciate these conditions and
General Hsu Shu-tseng, popularly known as '^Little Hsu,'* by
a clever bit of Oriental intrigue sent four thousand soldiers to
Urga with the excuse of protecting the Mongols from a so-
called threatened invasion of Buriats and brigands. A little
later he himself arrived in a motor car and, when the stage
was set, brought such pressure to bear upon the Hutukhtu
and his Cabinet that they had no recourse except to cancel
Mongolia's autonomy and ask to return to their former place
under Chinese rule.

This they did on November 17, 1919, in a formal Memorial
addressed to the President of the Chinese Republic, which is
quoted below as it appeared in the Peking press, under date
of November 24, 1919 :

"We, the Ministers and Vice-Minis ters [here follow their
names and ranks] of all the departments of the autonomous
Government of Outer Mongolia, and all the princes, dukes,
hutukhtus and lamas and others resident at Urga, hereby
jointly and severally submit the following petition for the es-
teemed perusal of His Excellency the President of the Republic
of China: —

"Outer Mongolia has been a dependency of China since the
reign of the Emperor Kang Hsi, remaining loyal for over two
hundred years, the entire population, from princes and dukes
down to the common people having enjoyed the blessings of
peace. During the reign of the Emperor Tao Kwang changes
in the established institutions, which were opposed to Mon-
golian sentiment, caused dissatisfaction which was aggravated
by the corruption of the administration during the last days

xxii INTRODUCTION

of the Manchu Dynasty. Taking advantage of this Mongolian
dissatisfaction, foreigners instigated and assisted the inde-
pendence movement. Upon the Kiakhta Convention being
signed the autonomy of Outer Mongolia was held a fait ac-
compli, China retaining an empty suzerainty while the officials
and people of Outer Mongolia lost many of their old rights
and privileges. Since the establishment of this autonomous
government no progress whatsoever has been chronicled, the
affairs of government being indeed plunged in a state of chaos,
causing deep pessimism.

**Lately, chaotic conditions have also reigned supreme in
Russia, reports of revolutionary elements threatening our
frontiers having been frequently received. Moreover, since the
Russians have no united government it is only natural that
they are powerless to carry out the provisions of the treaties,
and now that they have no control over their subjects the
Buriat tribes have constantly conspired and cooperated with
bandits, and repeatedly sent delegates to Urga urging our Gov-
ernment to join with them and form a Pan-Mongolian nation.
That this propaganda work, so varied and so persistent, which
aims at usurping Chinese suzerainty and undermining the
autonomy of Outer Mongolia, does more harm than good to
Outer Mongolia, our Government is well aware. The Buriats,
with their bandit Allies, now considering us unwilling to
espouse their cause, contemplate dispatching troops to violate
our frontiers and to compel our submission. Furthermore,
forces from the so-called White Army have forcibly occupied
Tanu Ulianghai, an old possession of Outer Mongolia, and at-
tacked both Chinese and Mongolian troops, this being followed
by the entry of the Red Army, thus making the situation im-
possible.

"Now that both our internal and external affairs have
reached such a climax, we, the members of the Government,
in view of the present situation, have assembled all the princes,

INTRODUCTION xxiii

dukes, lamas and others and have held frequent meetings to
discuss the question of our future welfare. Those present have
been unanimously of the opinion that the old bonds of friend-
ship having been restored our autonomy should be canceled,
since Chinese and Mongolians are filled with a common purpose
and ideal.

"The result of our decision has been duly reported to His
Holiness the Bogdo Jetsun Dampa Hutukhtu Khan and has
received his approval and support. Such being the position
we now unanimously petition His Excellency the President
that the old order of affairs be restored."
(Signed)

"Premier and Acting Minister of the Interior, Prince Lama
Batma Torgoo.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Tarkhan Puntzuk Cheilin.

"Vice-Minister, Great Lama of Beliktu, Prince Puntzuk
Torgoo.

"Minister of Foreign Affairs, Duke Cheilin Torgoo.

"Vice-Minister, Dalai Prince Cheitantnun Lomour.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Ochi, Kaotzuktanba.

"Minister of War, Prince of Eltoni Jamuyen Torgoo.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Eltoni Selunto Chihloh.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Elteni Punktzu Laptan.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Itkemur Chitu Wachir.

"Minister of Finance, Prince Lama Loobitsan Paletan.

"Vice-Minister, Prince Torgee Cheilin.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Suchuketu Tehmutgu Kejwan.

"Minister of Justice, Dalai of Chiechenkhan Wananin.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Daichinchihlun Chackehbatehorhu.

"Vice-Minister, Prince of Cholikota Lama Dashtunyupu."

Naturally, the President of China graciously consented to
allow the prodigal to return and "killed the fatted calf" by
conferring high honors and titles upon the Hutukhtu. More-

xxiv INTRODUCTION

over, he appointed the Living Buddha's gaod friend (?) "Little
Hsu*' to convey them to him.

Thus, Mongolia again has become a part of China. Who
knows what the future has in store for her? But events are
moving rapidly and by the time this book is published the cur-
tain may have risen upon a new act of Mongolia's tragedy.

ACROSS
MONGOLIAN PLAINS

CHAPTER I

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY

Careering madly in a motor car behind a herd of an-
telope fleeing like wind-blown ribbons across a desert
which isn't a desert, past caravans of camels led by
picturesque Mongol horsemen, the Twentieth Century
suddenly and violently interjected into the Middle Ages,
should be contrast and paradox enough for even the
most blase sportsman. I am a naturalist who has wan-
dered into many of the far corners of the earth. I have
seen strange men and things, but what I saw on the great
Mongolian plateau fairly took my breath away and left
me dazed, utterly unable to adjust my mental per-
spective.

• When leaving Peking in late August, 1918, to cross
the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, I knew that I was to go
by motor car. But somehow the very names "Mon-
golia" and "Gobi Desert" brought such a vivid picture
of the days of Kublai Khan and ancient Cathay that my
clouded mind refused to admit the thought of automo-
biles. It was enough that I was going to the land of

which I had so often dreamed.

1

2 ; Across MONGOLIAN plains

' ' Niit trhn m -tb^ railway, when I was being borne
toward Kalgan and saw lines of laden camels plodding
silently along the paved road beside the train, or when
we puffed slowly through the famous Nankou Pass and
I saw that wonder of the world, the Great Wall,
winding like a gray serpent over ridge after ridge of the
mountains, was my dream-picture of mysterious Mon-
golia dispelled. I had seen all this before, and had ac-
cepted it as one accepts the motor cars beside the splen-
did walls of old Peking. It was too near, and the
railroad had made it commonplace.

But Mongolia! That was different. One could not
go there in a roaring train. I had beside me the same
old rifle and sleeping bag that had been carried across
the mountains of far Yun-nan, along the Tibetan fron-
tier, and through the fever-stricken jungles of Burma.
Somehow, these companions of forest and mountain
trails, and my reception at Kalgan by two khaki-clad
young men, each with a belt of cartridges and a six-
shooter strapped about his waist, did much to keep me
in a blissful state of unpreparedness for the destruction
of my dream-castles.

That night as we sat in Mr. Charles Coltman's home,
with his charming wife, a real woman of the great out-
doors, presiding at the dinner table, the talk was all
of shooting, horses, and the vast, lone spaces of the Gobi
Desert — ^but not much of motor cars. Perhaps they
vaguely realized that I was still asleep in an unreal
world and knew that the awakening would come all
too soon.

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 9

Yet I was dining that night with one of the men who
had destroyed the mystery of Mongolia. In 1916, Colt-
man and his former partner, Oscar Mamen, had driven
across the plains to Urga, the historic capital of Mon-
golia. But most unromantic and incongruous, most dis-
heartening to a dreamer of Oriental dreams, was what
I learned a few days later when the awakening had
really come — that among the first cars ever to cross
the desert was one purchased by the Hutukhtu, the
Living Buddha, the God of all the Mongols.

When the Hutukhtu learned of the first motor car
in Mongolia he forthwith demanded one for him-
self. So his automobile was brought safely through
the rocky pass at Kalgan and across the seven hundred
miles of plain to Urga by way of the same old caravan
trail over which, centuries ago, Genghis Khan had sent
his wild Mongol raiders to conquer China.

We arose long before daylight on the morning of
August 29. In the courtyard lanterns flashed and dis-
appeared like giant fireflies as the mafus (muleteers)
packed the baggage and saddled the ponies. The cars
had been left on the plateau at a mission station called
Hei-ma-hou to avoid the rough going in the pass, and
we were to ride there on horseback while the food and
bed-rolls went by cart. There were five of us in the
party — ^Mr. and Mrs. Coltman, Mr. and Mrs. Lucander,
and myself. I was on a reconnoissance and Mr. Colt-
man's object was to visit his trading station in Urga,
where the Lucanders were to remain for the winter.

The sun was an hour high when we clattered over the

4. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

slippery paving stones to the north gate of the city.
Kalgan is built hard against the Great Wall of China —
the first line of defense, the outermost rampart in the
colossal structure which for so many centuries protected
China from Tartar invasion. Beyond it there was noth-
ing between us and the great plateau.

After our passports had been examined we rode
through the gloomy chasm-like gate, tuitied sharply to
the left, and found ourselves standing on the edge of a
half -dry river bed. Below us stretched line after line of
double-humped camels, some crowded in yellow-brown
masses which seemed all heads and curving necks, and
some kneeling quietly on the sand. From around a
shoulder of rock came other camels, hundreds of them,
treading slowly and sedately, nose to tail, toward the
gate in the Great Wall. They had come from the far
country whither we were bound. To me there is some-
thing fascinating about a camel. Perhaps it is because
he seems to typify the great waste spaces which I love,
that I never tire of watching him swing silently, and
seemingly with resistless power, across the desert.

Our way to Hei-ma-hou led up the dry river bed, with
the Great Wall on the left stretching its serpentine
length across the hills, and on the right picturesque cliffs
two hundred feet in height. At their bases nestle mud-
roofed cottages and Chinese inns, but farther up the
river the low hills are all of loess — ^brown, wind-blown
dust, packed hard, which can be cut like cheese. De-
serted though they seem from a distance, they really
teem with human life. Whole villages are half dug, half

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 5

built, into the hillsides, but are well-nigh invisible, for
every wall and roof is of the same brown earth.

Ten miles or so from Kalgan we began on foot the
long climb up the pass which gives entrance to the great
plateau. I kept my eyes steadily on the pony's heels
until we reached a broad, flat terrace halfway up the
pass. Then I swung about that I might have, all at
once, the view which lay below us. It justified my great-
est hopes, for miles and miles of rolling hills stretched
away to where the far horizon met the Shansi Moun-
tains.

It was a desolate country which I saw, for every wave
in this vast land-sea was cut and slashed by the knives
of wind and frost and rain, and lay in a chaotic mass of
gaping wounds — canons, ravines, and gullies, painted
in rainbow colors, crossing and cutting one another at
fantastic angles as far as the eye could see.

When, a few moments later, we reached the very sum-
mit of the pass, I felt that no spot I had ever visited sat-
isfied my preconceived conceptions quite so thoroughly.
Behind and below us lay that stupendous relief map of
ravines and gorges; in front was a limitless stretch of
undulating plain. I knew then that I really stood upon
the edge of the greatest plateau in all the world and
that it could be only Mongolia.

We had tiffin at a tiny Chinese inn beside the road,
and trotted on toward Hei-ma-hou between waving
fields of wheat, buckwheat, millet, and oats — oats as
thick and *'meaty" as any horse could wish to eat.

After tiffin Coltman and Lucander rode rapidly ahead

6 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

while I trotted my pony along more slowly in the rear.
It was nearly seven o'clock, and the trees about the mis-
sion station had been visible for half an hour. I was
enjoying a gorgeous sunset which splashed the western
sky with gold and red, and lazily watching the black
silhouettes of a camel caravan swinging along the sum-
mit of a ridge a mile away. On the road beside me a
train of laden mules and bullock-carts rested for a mo-
ment— ^the drivers half asleep. Over all the plain there
lay the peace of a perfect autumn evening.
' Suddenly, from behind a little rise, I heard the whir
of a motor engine and the raucous voice of a Klaxon
horn. Before I realized what it meant, I was in the
midst of a mass of plunging, snorting animals, shouting
carters, and kicking mules. In a moment the caravan
scattered wildly across the plain and the road was clear
save for the author of the turmoil — a black automobile.

I wish I could make those who spend their lives within
a city know how strange and out of place that motor
seemed, alone there upon the open plain on the borders
of Mongolia. Imagine a camel or an elephant with all
its Oriental trappings suddenly appearing on Fifth
Avenue! You would think at once that it had escaped
from a circus or a zoo and would be mainly curious as
to what the traffic policeman would do when it did not
obey his signals.

But all the incongruity and the fact that the automo-
bile was a glaring anachronism did not prevent my
abandoning my horse to the mafu and stretching out
comfortably on the cushions of the rear seat. There I

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 7

had nothing to do but collect the remains of my shat-
tered dream-castles as we bounced over the ruts and
stones. It was a rude awakening, and I felt half
ashamed to admit to myself as the miles sped by that
the springy seat was more comfortable than the saddle
on my Mongol pony.

But that night when I strolled about the mission
courtyard, under the spell of the starry, desert sky, I
drifted back again in thought to the glorious days of
Kublai Khan. My heart was hot with resentment that
this thing had come. I realized then that, for better or
for worse, the sanctity of the desert was gone forever.
Camels will still plod their silent way across the age-old
plains, but the mystery is lost. The secrets which were
yielded up to but a chosen few are open now to all, and
the world and his wife will speed their noisy course across
the miles of roUing prairie, hearyig nothing, feeling
nothing, knowing nothing of that resistless desert charm
which led men out into the Great Unknown.

At daylight we packed the cars. Bed-rolls and cans
of gasoline were tied on the running boards and every
corner was filled with food. Our rifles were ready for
use, however, for Coltman had promised a kind of shoot-
ing such as I had never seen before. The stories he told
of wild rides in the car after strings of antelope which
traveled at fifty or sixty miles an hour had left me mildly
skeptical. But then, you know, I had never seen a Mon-
golian antelope run.

For twenty or thirty miles after leaving Hei-ma-hou
we bounced along over a road which would have been

8 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

splendid except for the deep ruts cut by mule- and ox-
carts. These carts are the despair of any one who hopes
some time to see good roads in China. The spike-
studded wheels cut into the hardest ground and leave a
chaos of ridges and chasms which grows worse with
every year.

We were seldom out of sight of mud-walled huts or
tiny Chinese villages, and Chinese peddlers passed our
cars, carrying baskets of fruit or trinkets for the women.
Chinese farmers stopped to gaze at us as we bounded
over the ruts — ^in fact it was all Chinese, although we
were really in Mongolia. I was very eager to see Mon-
gols, to register first impressions of a people of whom
I had dreamed so much ; but the blue-clad Chinaman was
ubiquitous.

For seventy miles from Kalgan it was all the same —
Chinese everywhere. The Great Wall was built to keep
the Mongols out, and by the same token it should have
kept the Chinese in. But the rolling, grassy sea of the
vast plateau was too strong a temptation for the Chinese
farmer. Encouraged by his own government, which
knows the value of just such peaceful penetration, he
pushes forward the line of cultivation a dozen miles or
so every year. As a result the grassy hills have given
place to fields of wheat, oats, millet, buckwheat, and
potatoes.

The Mongol, above all things, is not a farmer; pos-
sibly because, many years ago, the Manchus forbade him
to till the soil. Moreover, on the ground he is as awk-
ward as a duck out of water and he is never comfortable.

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 9

The back of a pony is his real home, and he will do won-
derfully well any work which keeps him in the saddle.
As Mr. F. A, Larsen in Urga once said, "A Mongol
would make a splendid cook if you could give him a
horse to ride about on in the kitchen." So he leaves to
the plodding Chinaman the cultivation of his boundless
plains, while he herds his fat-tailed sheep and goats and
cattle.

About two hours after leaving the mission station we
passed the limit of cultivation and were riding toward
the Tabool hills. There Mr. Larsen, the best known
foreigner in all Mongolia, has a home, and as we
swung past the trail which leads to his house we saw one
of his great herds of horses grazing in the distance.

All the land in this region has long, rich grass in
summer, and water is by no means scarce. There are
frequent wells and streams along the road, and in the
distance we often caught a glint of silver from the sur-
face of a pond or lake. Flocks of goats and fat-tailed
sheep drifted up the valley, and now and then a herd
of cattle massed themselves in moving patches on the
hillsides. But they are only a fraction of the numbers
which this land could easily support.

Not far from Tabool is a Mongol village. I jumped
out of the car to take a photograph but scrambled in
again almost as quickly, for as soon as the motor had
stopped a dozen dogs dashed from the houses snarling
and barking like a pack of wolves. They are huge
brutes, these Mongol dogs, and as fierce as they are big.
Every family and every caravan owns one or more, and

10 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

we learned very soon never to approach a native en-
campment on foot.

The village was as unlike a Chinese settlement as it
well could be, for instead of closely packed mud houses
there were circular, latticed frameworks covered with
felt and cone-shaped in the upper half. The yurt, as it
is called, is perfectly adapted to the Mongols and their
life. In the winter a stove is placed in the center, and
the house is dry and warm. In the summer the felt
covering is sometimes replaced by canvas which can be
lifted on any side to allow free passage of air. When
it is time for the semiannual migration to new grazing
grounds the yurt can be quickly dismantled, the frame-
work collapsed, and the house packed on camels or carts.

The Mongols of the village were rather disappoint-
ing, for many of them show a strong element of Chinese
blood. This seems to have developed an unfortunate
combination of the worst characteristics of both races.
Even where there is no real mixture, their contact with
the Chinese has been demoralizing, and they will rob and
steal at every opportunity. The headdresses of the
southern women are by no means as elaborate as those
in the north.

When the hills of Tabool had begun to sink on the
horizon behind us, we entered upon a vast rolling plain,
where there was but little water and not a sign of human
life. It resembled nothing so much as the prairies of
Nebraska or Dakota, and amid the short grass larkspur
and purple thistles glowed in the sunlight like tongues
of flame.

ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 11

I

There was no lack of birds. In the ponds which we

passed earlier in the day we saw hundreds of mallard

ducks and teal. The car often frightened golden plover

from their dust baths in the road, and crested lapwings

flashed across the prairie like sudden storms of autumn

leaves. Huge, golden eagles and enormous ravens made

tempting targets on the telegraph poles, and in the

morning before we left the cultivated area we saw

demoiselle cranes in thousands.

In this land where wood is absent and everything
that will make a fire is of value, I wondered how it hap-
pened that the telegraph poles remained untouched, for
every one was smooth and round without a splinter gone.
The method of protection is simple and entirely Orien-
tal. When the line was first erected, the Mongolian
government stated in an edict that any man who touched
a pole with knife or ax would lose his head. Even on
the plains the enforcement of such a law is not so diffi-
cult as it might seem, and after a few heads had been
taken by way of example the safety of the line was as-
sured.

Our camp the first night was on a hill slope about one
hundred miles from Hei-ma-hou. As soon as the cars
had stopped, one man was left to untie the sleeping bags
while the rest of us scattered over the plain to hunt ma-
terial for a fire. Argul (dried dung) forms the only
desert fuel and, although it does not blaze like wood, it
will "boil a pot" almost as quickly as charcoal. I was
elected to be the cook — a position with distinct advan-

1« ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

tages, for in the freezing cold of early morning I could
linger about the fire with a good excuse.

It was a perfect autumn night. Every star in the
world of space seemed to have been crowded into our
own particular expanse of sky, and each one glowed like
a tiny lantern. When I had found a patch of sand and
had dug a trench for my hip and shoulder, I crawled
into the sleeping bag and lay for half an hour looking
up at the bespangled canopy above my head. Again
the magic of the desert night was in my blood, and I
blessed the fate which had carried me away from the
roar and rush of New York with its hurrying crowds.
But I felt a pang of envy when, far away in the dis-
tance, there came the mellow notes of a camel-bell.
Dong J dong, dong it sounded, clear and sweet as cathe-
dral chimes. With surging blood I listened until I
caught the measured tread of padded feet, and saw the
black silhouettes of rounded bodies and curving necks.
Oh, to be with them, to travel as Marco Polo traveled,
and to learn to know the heart of the desert in the long
night marches! Before I closed my eyes that night I
vowed that when the war was done and I was free to
travel where I willed, I would come again to the desert
as the great Venetian came.

CHAPTER II

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT

The next morning, ten miles from camp, we passed
a party of Russians en route to Kalgan. They were
sitting disconsolately beside two huge cars, patching
tires and tightening bolts. Their way had been marked
by a succession of motor troubles and they were almost
discouraged. Woe to the men who venture into the
desert with an untried car and without a skilled me-
chanic! There are no garages just around the corner —
and there are no corners. Lucander's Chinese boy ex-
pressed it with laconic completeness when some one
asked him how he liked the country.

"Well," said he, "there's plenty of roorri here."
A short distance farther on we found the caravan
which had passed us early in the night. They were
camped beside a well and the thirsty camels were gorg-
ing themselves with water. Except for these wells, the
march across the desert would be impossible. They are
four or five feet wide, walled with timbers, and partly
roofed. In some the water is rather brackish but always
cool, for it is seldom less than ten feet below the surface.
It is useless to speculate as to who dug the wells or
when, for this trail has been used for centuries. In some

13

k

14 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

regions they are fifty or even sixty miles apart, but usu-
ally less than that.

The camel caravans travel mostly at night. For all
his size and apparent strength, a camel is a delicate ani-
mal and needs careful handling. He cannot stand the
heat of the midday sun and he will not graze at night.
So the Gobi caravans start about three or four o'clock
in the afternoon and march until one or two the next
morjning. Then the men pitch a light tent and the cam-
els sleep or wander over the plain.

At noon on the second day we reached Panj-kiang,
the first telegraph station on the line. Its single mud
house was visible miles away and we were glad to see it,
for our gasoline was getting low. Coltman had sent a
plentiful supply by caravan to await us here, and every
available inch of space was filled with cans, for we were
only one-quarter of the way to Urga.

Not far beyond Panj-kiang, a lama monastery has
been built beside the road. Its white-walled temple
bordered with red and the compound enclosing the liv-
ing quarters of the lamas show with startling distinctness
on the open plain. We stopped for water at a well a
few hundred yards away, and in five minutes the cars
were surrounded by a picturesque group of lamas who
streamed across the plain on foot and on horseback, their
yellow and red robes flaming in the sun. They were
amiable enough — in fact, too friendly — and their curi-
osity was hardly welcome, for we found one of them test-
ing his knife on the tires and another about to punch

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 15

a hole in one of the gasoline cans ; he hoped it held some-
thing to drink that was better than water.

Thus far the trail had not been bad, as roads go in
the Gobi, but I was assured that the next hundred miles
would be a different story, for we were about to enter
the most arid part of the desert between Kalgan and
Urga. We were prepared for the only real work of the
trip, however, by a taste of the exciting shooting which
Coltman had promised me.

I had been told that we should see antelope in thou-
sands, but all day I had vainly searched the plains for
a sign of game. Ten miles from Panj-kiang we were
rolling comfortably along on a stretch of good road when
Mrs. Coltman, whose eyes are as keen as those of a hawk,
excitedly pointed to a knoll on the right, not a hundred
yards from the trail. At first I saw nothing but yellow
grass; then the whole hillside seemed to be in motion.
A moment later I began to distinguish heads and legs
and realized that I was looking at an enormous herd of
antelope, closely packed together, restlessly watching
us.

Our rifles were out in an instant and Coltman opened
the throttle. The antelope were five or six hundred
yards away, and as the car leaped forward they ranged
themselves in single file and strung out across the plain.
We left the road at once and headed diagonally toward
them. For some strange reason, when a horse or car
runs parallel with a herd of antelope, the animals will
swing in a complete semicircle and cross in front of the
pursuer. This is also true of some African species.

16 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Whether they think they are being cut off from some
more desirable means of escape I cannot say, but the
fact remains that with the open plain on every side they
always try to **cross your bows."

I shall never forget the sight of those magnificent ani-
mals streaming across the desert! There were at least
a thousand of them, and their yellow bodies seemed
fairly to skim the earth. I was shouting in excitement,
but Coltman said:

"They're not running yet. Wait till we begin to
shoot."

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the speed-
ometer trembling at thirty-five miles, for we were mak-
ing a poor showing with the antelope. But then the
fatal attraction began to assert itself and the long col-
umn bent gradually in our direction. Coltman widened
the arc of the circle and held the throttle up as far as it
would go. Our speed increased to forty miles and the
car began to gain because the antelope were running
almost across our course.

They were about two hundred yards away when Colt-
man shut off the gas and jammed both brakes, but be-
fore the car had stopped they had gained another
hundred. I leaped over a pile of bedding and came into
action with the .250 Savage high-power as soon as my
feet were on the ground. Coltman's .30 Mauser was
already spitting fire from the front seat across the wind-
shield, and at his second shot an antelope dropped like
lead. My first two bullets struck the dirt far behind the
rearmost animal, but the third caught a full-grown fe-

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 17

male in the side and she plunged forward into the grass.

I realized then what Coltman meant when he said that
the antelope had not begun to run. At the first shot
every animal in the herd seemed to flatten itself and set-
tle to its work. They did not run — they simply flew
across the ground, their legs showing only as a blur.
The one I killed was four hundred yards away, and I
held four feet ahead when I pulled the trigger. They
could not have been traveling less than fifty-five or sixty
miles an hour, for they were running in a semicircle
about the car while we were moving at forty miles in a
straight line.

Those are the facts in the case. I can see my readers
raise their brows incredulously, for that is exactly what
I would have done before this demonstration. Well,
there is one way to prove it and that is to come and try
it for yourselves. Moreover, I can see some sportsmen
smile for another reason. I mentioned that the antelope
I killed was four hundred yards away. I know how far
it was, for I paced it off. I may say, in passing, that I
had never before killed a running animal at that range.
Ninety per cent of my shooting had been well within
one hundred and fifty yards, but in Mongolia conditions
are most extraordinary.

In the brilliant atmosphere an antelope at four hun-
dred yards appears as large as it would at one hundred
in most other parts of the world; and on the flat plains,
where there is not a bush or a shrub to obscure the view,
a tiny stone stands out like a golf ball on the putting
green. Because of these conditions there is strong temp-

18 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

tation to shoot at impossible ranges and to keep on shoot-
ing when the game is beyond anything except a lucky
chance. Therefore, if any of you go to Mongolia to
hunt antelope take plenty of ammunition, and when you
return you will never tell how many cartridges you used.
Our antelope were tied on the running board of the car
and we went back to the road where Lucander was wait-
ing. Half the herd had crossed in front of him, but he
had failed to bring down an animal.

When the excitement was over I began to understand
the significance of what we had seen. It was slowly
borne in upon me that our car had been going, by the
speedometer, at forty miles an hour and that the ante-
lope were actuall'y heating us. It was an amazing dis-
covery, for I had never dreamed that any living animal
could run so fast. It was a discovery, too, which would
have important results, for Professor Henry Fairfield
Osborn, president of the American Museum of Natural -
History, even then was carrying on investigations as to
the relation of speed to limb structure in various groups
of animals. I determined, with Mr. Coltman's help, to
get some real facts in the case — data upon which we
could rely.

There was an opportunity only to begin the study on
the first trip, but we carried it further the following
year. Time after time, as we tore madly after antelope,
singly or in herds, I kept my eyes upon the speedometer,
and I feel confident that our observations can be relied
upon. We demonstrated beyond a doubt that the Mon-
golian antelope can reach a speed of from fifty-five to

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 19

sixty miles an hour. This is probably the maximum
which is attained only in the initial sprint and after a
very short distance the animals must slow down to about
forty miles; a short distance more and they drop to
twenty-five or thirty miles, and at this pace they seem
able to continue almost indefinitely. They never ran
faster than was necessary to keep well away from us.
As we opened the throttle of the car they, too, increased
their speed. It was only when we began to shoot and
they became thoroughly frightened that they showed
what they could do.

I remember especially one fine buck which gave us an
exhibition of really high-class running. He started al-
most opposite to us when we were on a stretch of splen-
did road and jogged comfortably along at thirty-five
miles an hour. Our car was running at the same speed,
but he decided to cross in front and pressed his accelera-
tor a little. Coltman also touched ours, and the motor
jumped to forty miles. The antelope seemed very much
surprised and gave his accelerator another push. Colt-
man did likewise, and the speedometer registered forty-
five miles. That was about enough for us, and we held
our speed. The animal drew ahead on a long curve
swinging across in front of the car. He had beaten us
by a hundred yards!

But we had a surprise in store for him, for Coltman
suddenly shut off the gas and threw on both brakes.
Before the motor had fully stopped we opened fire. The
first two bullets struck just behind the antelope and a
third kicked the dust between his legs. The shock turned

m ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

him half over, but he righted himself and ran to his very
limit. The bullets spattering all about kept him at it
for six hundred yards. He put up a desert hare on the
way, but that hare didn't have a chance with the ante-
lope. It reminded me of the story of the negro who had
seen a ghost. He ran until he dropped beside the road,
but the ghost was right beside him. "Well," said the
ghost, "that was some race we had." "Yes," answered
the negro, "but it ain't nothin' to what we're goin' to
have soon's ever I git my breath. And then," said
the negro, "we ran agin. And I come to a rabbit leggin'
it up the road, and I said, *Git out of the way, rabbit,
and let some one run what can run!' " The last we saw
of the antelope was a cloud of yellow dust disappearing
over a low rise.

The excitement of the chase had been an excellent
preparation for the hard work which awaited us not far
ahead. The going had been getting heavier with every
mile, and at last we reached a long stretch of sandy road
which the motors could not pull through. With every
one except the driver out of the car, and the engine rac-
ing, we pushed and lifted, gaining a few feet each time,
until the shifting sand was passed. It meant two hours
of violent strain, and we were well-nigh exhausted; a
few miles farther, however, it had all to be done again.
Where the ground was hard, there was such a chaos of
ruts and holes that our arms were almost wrenched from
their sockets by the twisting wheels.

This area more nearly approaches a desert than any
other part of the road to Urga. The soil is mainly

I

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT «1

sandy, but the Gobi sagebrush and short bunch grass,
although sparse and dry, still give a covering of vege-
tation, so that in the distance the plain appears like a
rolling meadowland.

When we saw our first northern Mongol I was de-
lighted. Every one is a study for an artist. He dresses
in a long, loose robe of plum color, one corner of which
is usually tucked into a gorgeous sash. On his head is
perched an extraordinary hat which looks like a saucer,
with upturned edges of black velvet and a narrow cone-
shaped crown of brilliant yellow. Two streamers of red
ribbon are usually fastened to the rim at the back, or a
plimie of peacock feathers if he be of higher rank.

On his feet he wears a pair qf enormous leather boots
with pointed toes. These are always many sizes too
large, for as the weather grows colder he pads them out
with heavy socks of wool or fur. It is nearly impossible
for him to walk in this ungainly footgear, and he wad-
dles along exactly like a duck. He is manifestly uncom-
fortable and ill at ease, but put him on a horse and you
have a different picture. The high-peaked saddle and
the horse itself become a part of his anatomy and he
will stay there happily fifteen hours of the day.

The Mongols ride with short stirrups and, standing
nearly upright, lean far over the horse's neck like our
western cowboys. As they tear along at full gallop in
their brilliant robes they seem to embody the very spirit
of the plains. They are such genial, accommodating
fellows, always ready with a pleasant smile, and wiUing

22 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

to take a sporting chance on anything under the sun,
that they won my heart at once.

Above all things they love a race, and often one of
them would range up beside the car and, with a radiant
smile, make signs that he wished to test our speed. Then
off he would go like mad, flogging his horse and yelling
with delight. We would let him g£wn at first, and the
expression of joy and triumph on his face was worth
going far to see. Sometimes, if the road was heavy, it
would need every ounce of gas the car could take to
forge ahead, for the ponies are splendid animals. The
Mongols ride only the best and ride them hard, since
horses are cheap in Mongolia, and when one is a little
worn another is always ready.

Not only does the Mongol inspire you with admira-
tion for his full-blooded, virile manhood, but also you
like him because he likes you. He doesn't try to disguise
the fact. There is a frank openness about his attitude
which is wonderfully appealing, and I believe that the
average white man can get on terms of easy f amiharity,
and even intimacy, with Mongols more rapidly than
with any other Orientals.

Ude is the second telegraph station on the road to
Urga. It has the honor of appearing on most maps of
Mongolia and yet it is even less impressive than Panj-
kiang. There are only two mud houses and half a dozen
yurts which seem to have been dropped carelessly behind
a ragged hill.

After leaving Ude, we slipped rapidly up and down
a succession of low hills and entered upon a plain so

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 23

vast and flat that we appeared to be looking across an
ocean. Not the smallest hill or rise of ground broke the
line where earth and sky met in a faint blue haze. Our
cars seemed like tiny boats in a limitless, grassy sea. It
was sixty miles across, and for three hours the steady
hum of the motor hardly ceased, for the road was smooth
and hard. Halfway over we saw another great herd of
antelope and several groups of ten or twelve. These
were a different species from those we had killed, and I
got a fine young buck. Twice wolves trotted across the
plain, and at one, which was very inquisitive, I did some
shooting which I vainly try to forget.

But most interesting to me among the wild life along
our way was the bustard. It is a huge bird, weighing
from fifteen to forty pounds, with flesh of such delicate
flavor that it rivals our best turkey. I had always
wanted to kill a bustard and my flrst one was neatly
eviscerated at two hundred yards by a Savage bullet.
I was more pleased than if I had shot an antelope, per-
haps because it did much to revive my spirits after the
episode of the wolf.

Sand grouse, beautiful little gray birds, with wings
like pigeons and remarkable, padded feet, whistled over
us as we rolled along the road, and my heart was sick
with the thought of the excellent shooting we were miss-
ing. But there was no time to stop, except for such
game as actually crossed our path, else we should never
have arrived at Urga, the City of the Living God.

Speaking of gods, I must not forget to mention the
great lamasery at Turin, about one hundred and seventy

24 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

miles from Urga, For hours before we reached it we
saw the ragged hills standing sharp and clear against
the sky line. The peaks themselves are not more than
two hundred feet in height, but they rise from a rocky
plateau some distance above the level of the plain. It
is a wild spot where some mighty internal force has burst
the surface of the earth and pushed up a ragged core of
rocks which have been carved by the knives of weather
into weird, fantastic shapes. This elemental battle
ground is a fit setting for the most remarkable group of
human habitations that I have ever seen.

Three temples lie in a bowl-shaped hollow, surrounded
by hundreds upon hundreds of tiny pill-box dwellings
painted red and white. There must be a thousand of
them and probably twice as many lamas. On the out-
skirts of the "city" to the south enormous piles of argvl
have been collected by the priests and bestowed as votive
offerings by devout travelers. Vast as the supply
seemed, it would take all this, and more, to warm the
houses of the lamas during the bitter winter months
when the ground is covered with snow. On the north
the hills throw protecting arms about the homes of these
half -wild men, who have chosen to spend their lives in
this lonely desert stronghold. The houses are built of-
sawn boards, the first indication we had seen that we
were nearing a forest country.

The remaining one hundred and seventy miles to
Urga are a delight, even to the motorist who loves the
paved roads of cities. They are like a boulevard amid
glorious, rolling hills luxuriant with long, sweet grass.

SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 25

In the distance herds of horses and cattle grouped them-
selves into moving patches, and fat-tailed sheep dotted
the plain like drifts of snow. I have seldom seen a bet-
ter grazing country. It needed but little imagination to
picture what it will be a few years hence when the inevi-
table railroad claims the desert as its own, for this rich
land cannot long remain untenanted. It was here that
we saw the first marmots, an unfailing indication that
we were in a northern country.

The thick blackness of a rainy night had enveloped us
long before we swung into the Urga Valley and groped
our way along the Tola River bank toward the glim-
mering lights of the sacred city. It seemed that we
would never reach them, for twice we took the wrong
turn and found ourselves in a maze of sandy bottoms
and half-grown trees. But at ten o'clock we plowed
through the mud of a narrow street and into the court-
yard of the Mongolian Trading Company's home.

Oscar Mamen, Coltman's former partner, and Mrs.
Mamen had spent several years there, and for six weeks
they had had as guests Messrs. A. M. Guptil and E. B.
Price, of Peking. Mr. Guptil was representing the
American Military Attache, and Mr. Price, Assistant
Chinese Secretary of the American Legation, had come
to Urga to establish communication with our consul at
Irkutsk who had not been heard from for more than a
month.

Urga recently had been pregnant with war possibili-
ties. In the Lake Baikal region of Siberia there were
several thousand Magyars and many Bolsheviki. It was

26 ACROSa MONGOLIAN PLAINS

known that Czechs expected to attack them, and that
they would certainly be driven across the borders into
Mongolia if defeated. In that event what would be
the attitude of the Mongolian government? Would it
intern the belligerents, or allow them to use the Urga
district as a base of operations?

As a matter of fact, the question had been settled just
before my arrival. The Czechs had made the expected
attack with about five hundred men; all the Magyars,
to the number of several thousand, had surrendered, and
the Bolsheviki had disappeared like mists before the sun.
The front of operations had moved in a single night
almost two thousand miles away to the Omsk district,
and it was certain that Mongolia would be left in peace.
Mr. Price's work also was done, for the telegraph from
Urga to Irkutsk was again in operation and thus com-
munication was established with Peking.

The morning after my arrival Mr. Guptil and I rode
out to see the town. Never have I visited such a city of
contrasts, or one to which I was so eager to return. As
we did come back, I shall tell, in a future chapter, of
what we found there.

\.

CHAPTER III

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

This is a "hard luck'' chapter. Stories of ill-fortune
are not always interesting, but I am writing this one to
show what can happen to an automobile in the Gobi.
We had gone to Urga without even a puncture and I
began to feel that motoring in Mongolia was as simple
as riding on Fifth Avenue — more so, in fact, for we did
not have to watch traffic policemen or worry about
"right of way." There is no crowding on the Gobi
Desert. When we passed a camel caravan or a train of
oxcarts we were sure to have plenty of room, for the
landscape was usually spotted in every direction with
fleeing animals.

Our motors had "purred" so steadily that accidents
and repair shops seemed very far away and not of much
importance. On the return trip, however, the reverse of
the picture was presented and I learned that to be alone
in the desert when something is wrong with the digestion
of your automobile can have its serious aspects. Unless
you are an expert mechanic and have an assortment of
"spare parts," you may have to walk thirty or forty
miles to the nearest water and spend many days of wait-
ing until help arrives.

Fortunately for us, there are few things which either

27

28 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Coltman or Guptil do not know about the **insides" of
a motor and, moreover, after a diagnosis, they both have
the ingenuity to remedy almost any trouble with a ham-
mer and a screw driver.

Four days after our arrival in Urga we left on the
return trip. As occupants of his car Charles Coltman
had Mr. Price, Mrs. Coltman, and Mrs. Mamen. With
the spiritual and physical assistance of Mr. Guptil I
drove the second automobile, carrying in the rear seat
a wounded Russian Cossack and a French- Czech, both
couriers. The third car was a Ford chassis to which a
wooden body had been affixed. It was designed to give
increased carrying space, but it looked like a half -grown
hayrack and was appropriately called the "agony box."
This was driven by a chauffeur named Wang and car-
ried Mamen's Chinese house boy and an amah besides a
miscellaneous assortment of baggage.

It was a cold, gray morning when we started, with a
cutting wind sweeping down from the north, giving a
hint of the bitter winter which in another month would
hold all Mongolia in an icy grasp. We made our way
eastward up the valley to the Russian bridge across the ;
Tola River and pointed the cars southward on the cara-
van trail to Kalgan.

Just as we reached the summit of the second long hill,
across which the wind was sweeping in a glacial blast, ]
there came a rasping crash somewhere in the motor of
my car, followed by a steady knock, knock, knock,
"That's a connecting rod as sure as fate," said "Gup.
"We'll have to stop." When he had crawled under the

» -i

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 29

car and found that his diagnosis was correct, he said
a few other things which ought to have relieved his mind
considerably.

There was nothing to be done except to replace the
broken part with a spare rod. For three freezing hours
Gup and Coltman lay upon their backs under the car,
while the rest of us gave what help we could. To add
to the difficulties a shower of hail swept down upon us
with all the fury of a Mongolian storm. It was three
o'clock in the afternoon before we were ready to go on,
and our camp that night was only sixty miles from Urga.

The next day as we passed Turin the Czech pointed
out the spot where he had lain for three days and nights
with a broken collar bone and a dislocated shoulder. He
had come from Irkutsk carrying important dispatches
and had taken passage in an automobile belonging to a
Chinese company which with difficulty was maintaining
a passenger service between Urga and Kalgan. As
usual, the native chauffeur was dashing along at thirty-
five miles an hour when he should not have driven faster
than twenty at the most. One of the front wheels slid
into a deep rut, the car turned completely over and the
resulting casualties numbered one man dead and our
Czech seriously injured. It was three days before an-
other car carried him back to Urga, where the broken
bones were badly set by a drunken Russian doctor. The
Cossack, too, had been shot twice in the heavy fighting
on the Russian front, and, although his wounds were
barely healed, he had just ridden three hundred miles
on horseback with dispatches for Peking.

30 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Both my passengers were delighted to have escaped
the Chinese motors, for in them accidents had been the
rule rather than the exception. During one year nine-
teen cars had been smashed and lay in masses of twisted
metal beside the road. The difficulty had been largely
due to the native chauffeurs. Although these men can
drive a car, they have no mechanical training and danger
signals from the motor are entirely disregarded. More-
over, all Chinese dearly love "show" and the chauffeurs
delight in driving at tremendous speed over roads where
they should exercise the greatest care. The deep cart
ruts are a continual menace, for between them the road
is often smooth and fine. But a stone or a tuft of grass
may send one of the front wheels into a rut and capsize
the car. Even with the greatest care accidents will hap-
pen, and motoring in Mongolia is by no means devoid of
danger and excitement.

About three o'clock in the afternoon of the second day
we saw frantic signals from the agony box which had
been lumbering along behind us. It appeared that the
right rear wheel was broken and the car could go no
farther. There was nothing for it but to camp right
where we were while Charles repaired the wheel.
Gup and I ran twenty miles down the road to look
for a well, but without success; The remaining water
was divided equally among us but next morning we dis-
covered that the Chinese had secreted two extra bottles
for themselves, while we had been saving ours to the last
drop. It taught me a lesson by which I profited the fol-
lowing sunmier.

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 31

On the third day the agony box limped along until
noon, but when we reached a well in the midst of the
great plain south of Turin it had to be abandoned, while
we went on to Ude, the telegraph station in the middle
of the desert, and wired Mamen to bring a spare wheel
from Urga.

The fourth day there was more trouble with the con-
necting rod on my car and. we sat for two hours at a
well while the motor was eviscerated and reassembled.
It had ceased to be a joke, especially to Coltman
and Guptil, for all the work fell upon them. By this
time they were almost unrecognizable because of dirt
and grease and their hands were cut and blistered. But
they stood it manfully, and at each new accident Gup
rose to greater and greater heights of oratory.

We were halfway between Ude and Panj-kiang when
we saw two automobiles approaching from the south.
Their occupants were foreigners we were sure, and as
they stopped beside us a tall young man came up to my
car. "I am Langdon Warner," he said. We shook
hands and looked at each other curiously. Warner is
an archaeologist and Director of the Pennsylvania Mu-
seum. For ten years we had played a game of hide and
seek through haljf the countries of the Orient and it
seemed that we were destined never to meet each other.
In 1910 I drifted into the quaint little town of Naha
in the Loo-Choo Islands, that forgotten kingdom of the
East. At that time it was far off the beaten track and
very few foreigners had sought it out since 1854, when
Commodore Perry negotiated a treaty with its king in

33 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

the picturesque old Shuri Palace. Only a few months
before I arrived, Langdon Warner had visited it on a
collecting trip and the natives had not yet ceased to talk
about the strange foreigner who gave them new baskets
for old ones.

A little later Warner preceded me to Japan, and in
1912 I followed him to Korea. Our paths diverged
when I went to Alaska in 1913, but I crossed his trail
again in China, and in 1916, just before my wife and I
left for Yiin-nan, I missed him in Boston where I had
gone to lecture at Harvard University. It was strange
that after ten years we should meet for the first time in
the middle of the Gobi Desert !

Warner was proceeding to Urga with two Czech offi-
cers who were on their way to Irkutsk. We gave them
the latest news of the war situation and much to their
disgust they realized that had they waited only two
weeks longer they could have gone by train, for the at-
tack by the Czechs on the Magyars and the Bolsheviki,
in the trans-Baikal region, had cleared the Siberian rail-
way westward as far as Omsk. After half an hour's
talk we drove off in opposite directions. Warner event-
ually reached Irkutsk, but not without some interesting
experiences with Bolsheviki along the way, and I did
not see him again until last March ( 1920) , when he came
to m.y office in the American Museum just after we had
returned to New York.

When we reached Panj-kiang we felt that our motor
troubles were at an end, but ten miles beyond the station
my car refused to pull through a sand pit and we found

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS , 33

that there was trouble with the differential. It was
necessary to dismantle the rear end of the car, and Colt-
man and Gup were well-nigh discouraged. The delay-
was a serious matter for I had urgent business in Japan,
and it was imperative that I reach Peking as soon as
possible. Charles finally decided to send me, together
with Price, the Czech, and the Cossack, in his car, while
he and Gup remained with the two ladies to repair
mine.

Price and I drove back to Panj-kiang to obtain extra
food and water for the working party and to telegraph
Kalgan for assistance. We took only a little tea, maca-
roni, and two tins of sausage, for we expected to reach
the mission station at Hei-ma-hou early the next
morning. '

We were hardly five miles from the broken car when
we discovered that there was no more oil for our motor.
It was impossible to go much farther and we decided
that the only alternative was to wait until the relief
party, for which we had wired, arrived from Kalgan.
Just then the car swung over the summit of a rise, and
we saw the white tent and grazing camels of an enor-
mous caravan. Of course, Mongols would have mutton
fat and why not use that for oil! The caravan leader
assured us that he had fat in plenty and in ten minutes
a great pot of it was warming over the fire.

We poured it into the motor and proceeded merrily
on our way. But there was one serious obstacle to our
enjoyment of that ride. Events had been moving so
rapidly that we had eaten nothing since breakfast, and

34 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

when a delicious odor of roast lamb began to arise from
the motor, we realized that we were all very hungry.
Dry macaroni would hardly do and the sausage must be
saved for dinner. All the afternoon that tantalizing
odor hovered in the air and I began to imagine that I
could even smell mint sauce.

At six o'clock we saw the first yurt and purchased a
supply of argul so that we could save time in making
camp. The lamps of the car were hors de combat and
a watery moon did not give us sufficient light by which
to drive in safety, so we stopped on a hilltop shortly
after dark. In the morning when the motor was cold
we could save time and strength in cranking by push-
ing it down the slope.

Much to our disgust we found that the argid we had
purchased from the Mongol was so mixed with dirt that
it would not burn. After half an hour of fruitless work
I gave up, and we divided the tin of cold sausage. It
was a pretty meager dinner for four hungry men and I
retired into my sleeping bag to dream of roast lamb and
mint sauce. When the Cossack officer found that he
was not to have his tea he was like a child with a stick
of candy just out of reach. He tried to sleep but it was
no use, and in half an hour I opened my eyes to see him
flat on his face blowing lustily at a piece of argul which
he had persuaded to emit a faint glow. For two mortal
hours the Russian nursed that fire until his pot of water
reached the boiling point. Then he insisted that we all
wake up to share his triumph.

We reached the mission station at noon next day, and

I

1 n

A -MOMIOI.IAN ANIKI.OPE Kil.t.Kl) 1 UO-Al OUH MOTOR CAR

WATERIXG CA3IELS AT A WELL IX THE GOBI DESERT

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 85

Father Weinz, the Belgian priest in charge, gave us the
first meal we had had in thirty-six hours. The Czech
courier decided to remain at Hei-ma-hou and go in n^t
day by cart, but we started immediately on the forty-
mile horseback ride to Kalgan. A steady rain began
about two o'clock in the afternoon, and in half an hour
we were soaked to the skin; then the ugly, little gray
stallion upon which I had been mounted planted both
hind feet squarely on my left leg as we toiled up a long
hill-trail to the pass, and I thought that my walking days
had ended for all time. At the foot of the pass we
halted at a dirty inn where they told us it would be use-
less to go on to Kalgan, for the gates of the city would
certainly be closed and it would be impossible to enter
until morning. There was no alternative except to
spend the night at the inn, but as they had only a grass
fire which burned out as soon as the cooking was
finished, and as all our clothes were soaked, we spent
sleepless hours shivering with cold.

The Cossack spoke only Mongol and Russian, and,
as neither of us knew a single word of either language,
it was difficult to communicate our plans to him. Fi-
nally, we found a Chinaman who spoke Mongol and
who consented to act as interpreter. The natives at the
inn could not understand why we were not able to talk
to the Cossack. Didn't all white men speak the same
language? Mr. Price endeavored to explain that Rus-
sian and English differ as much as do Chinese and
Mongol, but they only smiled and shook their heads.

In the morning I was so stiff from the kick which the

36 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

gray stallion had given me that I could get to his back
only with the greatest difficulty, but we reached Kalgan
at eight o'clock. Unfortunately, the Cossack had left
his passport in the cart which was to follow with his
baggage, and the police at the gate would not let us
pass. Mr. Price was well known to them and offered
to assume responsibility for the Cossack in the name
of the American Legation, but the policemen, who
were much disgruntled at being roused so early in the
morning, refused to let us enter.

Their attitude was so obviously absurd that we agreed
to take matters into our own hands. We strolled out-
side the house and suddenly jumped on our horses.
The sentries made a vain attempt to catch our bridle
reins and we rode down the street at a sharp trot.
There was another police station in the center of the
city which it was impossible to avoid and as we ap-
proached it we saw a line of soldiers drawn up across
the road. Our friends a? the gate had telephoned ahead
to have us stopped. Without hesitating we kept on,
riding straight at the gray-clad policemen. With
wildly waving arms they shouted at us to halt, but we
paid not the slightest attention, and they had to jump
aside to avoid being run down. The spectacle which
these Chinese soldiers presented, as they tried to arrest
us, was so ridiculous that we roared with laughter.
Imagine what would happen on Fifth Avenue if you
disregarded a traffic policeman's signal to stop!

Although the officials knew that we could be found
at Mr. Coltman's house, we heard nothing further from

I

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 37

the incident. It was so obviously a matter of personal
ill nature on the part of the captain in charge of the
gate police that they realized it was not a subject for
further discussion.

After the luxury of a bath and shave we proceeded
to Peking. Charles and Gup had rather a beastly
time getting in. The car could not be repaired suffi-
ciently to carry on under its own power, and, through
a misunderstanding, the relief party only went as far
as the pass and waited there for their arrival. They
eventually found it necessary to hire three horses to
tow them to the mission station where the *'hard luck"
story ended.

CHAPTER IV

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL

The winter of 1918-19 we spent in and out of one
of the most interesting cities in the world. Peking,
with its background of history made vividly real by
its splendid walls, its age-old temples and its mysteri-
ous Forbidden City, has a personality of its own.

When we had been away for a month or two there
was always a delightful feeling of anticipation in re-
turning to the city itself and to our friends in its cos-
mopolitan community.

Moreover, at our house in Wu Liang Taj en Hutung,
a baby boy and his devoted nurse were waiting to re-
ceive us. Even at two years the extraordinary facility
with which he discovered frogs and bugs, which, quite
unknown to us, dwelt in the flower-filled courtyard,
showed the hereditary instincts of a born explorer.

That winter gave us an opportunity to see much of
ancient China, for we visited Shantung, traveled
straight across the Provinces of Honan and Hupeh,
and wandered about the mountains of Che-kiang on a
serow hunt.

In February the equipment for our summer's work
in Mongolia was on its way across the desert by cara-
van. We had sent flour, bacon, coflfee, tea, sugar, but-

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 39

ter and dried fruit, for these could be purchased in
Urga only at prohibitive prices. Even then, with
camel charges at fourteen cents a cattie (1% lbs.), a
fifty-pound sack of flour cost us more than six dollars
by the time it reached Urga.

Charles Coltman at Kalgan very kindly relieved me
of all the transportation details. We had seen him
several times in Peking during the winter, and had
planned the trip across the plains to Urga as une belle
excursion,

Mrs. Coltman was going, of course, as were Mr. and
Mrs. "Ted" MacCallie of Tientsin. "Mac" was a fa-
mous Cornell football star whom I knew by reputation
in my own college days. He was to take a complete
Delco electric lighting plant to Urga, with the hope
of installing it in the palace of the "Living God."

A soldier named Owen from the Legation guard
in Peking was to drive the Delco car, and I had two
Chinese taxidermists, Chen and Kang, besides Lii, our
cook and camp boy.

Chen had been loaned to me by Dr. J. G. Andersson,
Mining Adviser to the Chinese Republic, and proved
to be one of the best native collectors whom I have ever
employed. The Coltmans and MacCallies were to stay
only a few days in Urga, but they helped to make the
trip across Mongolia one of the most delightful parts
of our glorious summer.

We left Kalgan on May IT. Mac, Owen, and I rode
the forty miles to Hei-ma-hou on horseback while
Charles drove a motor occupied by the three women.

40 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

There is a circuitous route by which cars can cross the
pass under their own power, but Coltman preferred the
direct road and sent four mules to tow the automobile
up the mountains to the edge of the plateau.

It was the same trail I had followed the previous
September. Then, as I stood on the summit of the
pass gazing back across the far, dim hills, my heart
was sad for I was about to enter a new land alone.
My "best assistant" was on the ocean coming as fast as
steam could carry her to join me in Peking. I won-
dered if Fate's decree would bring us here together that
we might both have, as a precious heritage for future
years, the memories of this strange land of romance
and of mystery. Now the dream had been fulfilled and
never have I entered a new country with greater hopes
of what it would bring to me. Never, too, have such
hopes been more gloriously realized.

We packed the cars that night and at half past five
the next morning were on the road. The sky was gray
and cloud-hung, but by ten o'clock the sun burned out
and we gradually emerged from the fur robes in which
we had been buried.

Instead of the fields of ripenmg grain which in the
previous autumn had spread the hills with a flowing
golden carpet, we saw blue-clad Chinese farmers turn-
ing long brown furrows with homemade plows. The
trees about the mission station had just begun to show
a tinge of green — the first sign of awakening at the
touch of spring from the long winter sleep. Already
caravans were astir, and we passed lines of laden camels

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 41

now almost at the end of the long journey from Outer
Mongolia, whither we were bound. But, instead of
splendid beasts with upstanding humps and full neck
beards, the camels now were pathetic mountains of al-
most naked skin on which the winter hair hung in ragged
patches. The humps were loose and flat and flapped
disconsolately as the great bodies lurched along the
trail.

When we passed one caravan a debonnaire old Mon-
gol wearing a derby hat swung out of line and
signaled us to stop. After an appraising glance at
the car he smiled broadly and indicated that he would
like to race. In a moment he was oiF yelling at the top
of his lungs and belaboring the bony sides of his camel
with feet and hands. The animal's ungainly legs
swung like a windmill in every direction it seemed, ex-
cept forward, and yet the Mongol managed to keep his
rolling old "ship of the desert" abreast of us for sev-
eral minutes. Finally we let him win the race, and
his look of delight was worth going far to see as he
waved us good-by and with a hearty ''sai-hei-naK' loped
slowly back to the caravan.

The road was much better than it had been the pre-
vious fall. During the winter the constant tramp of
padded feet had worn down and filled the ruts which
had been cut by the summer traffic of spike-wheeled
carts. But the camels had almost finished their winter's
work. In a few weeks they would leave the trail to ox
and pony caravans and spend the hot months in idle-

42 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

ness, storing quantities of fat in their great hump res-
ervoirs.

There was even more bird life than I had seen the
previous September. The geese had all flown north-
ward where we would find them scattered over their
summer breeding grounds, but thousands of demoiselle
cranes {Anthropoides virgo) had taken their places in
the fields. They were in the midst of the spring court-
ing and seemed to have lost all fear. One pair re-
mained beside the road until we were less than twenty
feet away, stepping daintily aside only when we threat-
ened to run them down. Another splendid male per-
formed a love dance for the benefit of his prospective
bride quite undisturbed by the presence of our cars.
With half-spread wings he whirled and leaped about
the lady while every feather on her slim, blue body ex-
pressed infinite boredom and indifference to his pas-
sionate appeal.

Ruddy sheldrakes, mallards, shoveler ducks, and teal
were in even the smallest ponds and avocets with sky-
blue legs and slender recurved bills ran along the shores
of a lake at which we stopped for tiffin. When we
had passed the last Chinese village and were well in
the Mongolian grasslands we had great fun shooting
gophers {Citellus mongolicus umbratus) from the cars.
It was by no means easy to kill them before they slipped
into their dens, and I often had to burrow like a ter-
rier to pull them out even when they were almost dead.
We got eighteen, and camped at half past four in
order that the taxidermists might have time to prepare

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 43

the skins. There was a hint of rain in the air and we
pitched the tent for emergencies, although none of us
wished to sleep inside. Mac suggested that we util-
ize the electric light plant even if we were on the
Mongolian plains. In half an hour he had installed
wires in the tent and placed an arc lamp on the summit
of a pole. It was an extraordinary experience to see
the canvas walls about us, to hear the mournful wail of
a lone wolf outside, and yet be able to turn the switch
of an electric light as though we were in the city. No
arc lamp on Fifth Avenue blazed more brightly than
did this one on the edge of the Gobi Desert where none
of its kind had ever shone before. With the motor
cars which had stolen the sanctity of the plains it was
only another evidence of the passing of Mongolian mys-
tery.

Usually when we camped we could see, almost imme-
diately, the silhouettes of approaching Mongols black
against the evening sky. Where they came from we
could never guess. For miles there might not have
been the trace of a human being, but suddenly they
would appear as though from out the earth itself. Per-
haps they had been riding along some distant ridge
far beyond the range of white men's eyes, or the roar
of a motor had carried to their ears across the miles of
plain; or perhaps it was that unknown sense, which
seems to have been developed in these children of the
desert, which directs them unerringly to water, to a lost
horse, or to others of their kind. Be it what it may,

44 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

almost every night the Mongols came loping into camp
on their hardy, little ponies.

But this evening, when we had prepared an especial
celebration, the audience did not arrive. It was a bit-
ter disappointment, for we were consumed with curi-
osity to know what effect the blazing arc would have
upon the Mongolian stoics. We could not believe that
natives had not seen the light but probably they
thought it was some spirit manifestation which was to
be avoided. An hour after we were snuggled in our
fur sleeping bags, two Mongols rode into camp, but
we were too sleepy to give an exhibition of .the fire-
works.

We reached Panj-kiang about noon of the second
day and found that a large mud house and a spacious
compound had been erected beside the telegraph sta-
tion by the Chinese company which was endeavoring
to maintain a passenger service between Kalgan and
Urga. The Chinese government also had invaded the
field and was sending automobiles regularly to the
Mongolian capital as a branch service of the Peking-
Suiyuan railroad. In the previous September we had
passed half a dozen of their motors in charge of a for-
eign representative of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson and
Co. of Shanghai from whom the cars were purchased.
He discovered immediately that the difficulties which
the Chinese had encountered were largely the result of
incompetent chauffeurs.

We had kept a sharp lookout for antelope, but saw
nothing except a fox which looked so huge in the clear

1^ NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 45

air that all of us were certain it was a wolf. There
are always antelope on the Panj-kiang plain, however,
and we loaded the magazines of our rifles as soon as
we left the telegraph station. I was having a bit of
sport with an immense flock of golden plover (Pluvialis
dominicus fulvus) when the people in the cars signaled
me to return, for a fine antelope buck was standing
only a few hundred yards from the road. The ground
was as smooth and hard as an asphalt pavement and
we skimmed along at forty miles an hour. When the
animal had definitely made up its mind to cross in front
of us, Charles gave the accelerator a real push and the
car jumped to a speed of forty-eight miles. The an-
telope was doing his level best to **cross our bows" but
he was too far away, and for a few moments it seemed
that we would surely crash into him if he held his course.
It was a great race. Yvette had a death grip on my
coat, for I was sitting half over the edge of the car
ready to jump when Charles threw on the brakes.
With any one but Coltman at the wheel I would have
been too nervous to enjoy the ride, but we all had con-
fidence in his superb driving.

The buck crossed the road not forty yards in front
of us, just at the summit of a tiny hill. Charles and
I both fired once, and the antelope turned half over in
a whirl of dust. It disappeared behind the hill crest
and we expected to find it dead on the other side, but
the slope was empty and even with our glasses' we could
not discover a sign of life on the plain, which stretched
away to the horizon apparently as level as a floor. It'

46 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

had been swallowed utterly as though by the magic
pocket of a conjurer.

Mac had not participated in the fun, for it had
been a one-man race. Fifteen minutes later, however,
we had a "free for all" which gave him his initiation.

An extract from Yvette's "Journal" gives her im-
pression of the chase:

"Some one pointed out the distant, moving specks?
on the horizon and in a moment our car had left the
road and started over the plains. Nearer and nearer
we came, and faster and faster ran the antelope string-
ing out in a long, yellow line before us. The speedome-
ter was moving up and up, thirty miles, thirty-five
miles. Roy was sitting on the edge of the car with his
legs hanging out, rifle in hand, ready to swing to the
ground as soon as the car halted. Mr. Coltman, who
was driving, had already thrown on the brakes, but
Roy, thinking in his excitement that he had stopped,
jumped — and jumped too soon. The speed at which
we were going threw him violently to the ground. I
hardly dared look to see what had happened but some-
how he turned a complete somersault, landed on his
knees, and instantly began shooting. Mr. Coltman, his
hands trembling with the exertion of the drive, opened
fire across the wind shield. As the first reports crashed
out, the antelope, which had seemed to be flying before,
flattened out and literally skimmed over the plain.
Half a dozen bullets struck behind the herd, then as
Roy's rifle cracked again, one of those tiny specks
dropped to the ground.

'J J J > >

p

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 47

It was a wonderful shot — four hundred and twenty
yards measured distance. No, this isn't a woman's in-
accuracy of figures, it's a fact. But then you must re-
member the extraordinary clearness of the air in Mon-
goha, where every object appears to be magnified half
a dozen times. The brilliant atmosphere is one of the
most bewildering things of the desert. Once we
thought we saw an antelope grazing on the hillside
and Mr. Coltman remarked disdainfully: *Pooh, that's
a horse.' But the laugh was on him for as we drew
near the *horse' proved to be only a bleached bone. At
a short distance camels and ponies stood out as though
cut in steel, seeming as high as a village church steeple ;
and, most ridiculous of all, my husband mistook me
once at a long, long distance for a telegraph pole!
Tartarin de Tarascon would have had some wonderful
stories to tell of Mongolia!"

We had hardly reached the road again before Mrs.
Coltman discovered a great herd of antelope on the
slope of a low hill, and when the cars carried us over
the crest we could see animals in every direction, feed-
ing in pairs or in groups of ten to forty.

We all agreed that no better place could be found
at which to obtain motion pictures and camp was made
forthwith. Unfortunately, the gazelles were shedding
their winter coats and the skins were useless except for
study; however, I did need half a dozen skeletons, so
the animals we killed would not be wasted.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the tents
were up and too late to take pictures; therefore, the

48 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

photography was postponed until the next day, and
we ran over toward a herd of antelope which was
just visible on the sky line. When each of us had killed
an animal, the opinion was unanimous that we had
enough. I got mine on the first chase and thenceforth
employed my time in making observations on the an-
telope's speed.

Time after time the car reached forty miles an hour,
but with an even start the gazelles could swing about
in front and "cross our bows." One of the antelope
had a front leg broken just below the knee, and gave
us a hard chase with the car going at thirty-five miles
an hour. I estimated that even in its crippled condi-
tion the animal was traveling at a rate of not less than
twenty- five miles an hour.

My field notes tell of a similar experience with the
last gazelle which Mac killed late in the afternoon.
"... We ran toward another group of antelope stand-
ing on the simimit of a long land swell. There were
fourteen in this herd and as the car neared them they
trotted about with heads up, evidently trying to decide
what species of plains animal we represented. The
sun had just set, and I shall never forget the picture
which they made, their graceful figures showing in
black silhouettes against the rose glow of the evening
sky. There was one buck among them and they
seemed very nervous. When the men leaped out to
shoot we were fully two hundred and fifty yards
away, but at his third shot Mac dropped the buck.
It was up again and off before the motor started in

NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 49

pursuit and, although running apart from the herd, it
was only a short distance behind the others. Evidently
the right foreleg was broken but with the car traveling
at twenty-five miles an hour it was still drawing ahead.
The going was not good and we ran for two miles with-
out gaining an inch; then we came to a bit of smooth
plain and the motor shot ahead at thirty-five miles an
hour. We gained slowly and, when about one hundred
yards away, I leaped out and fired at the animal break-
' ing the other foreleg low down on the left side. Even
with two legs injured it still traveled at a rate of fifteen
miles, and a third shot was required to finish the unfor-
tunate business. We found that both limbs were broken
below the knee, and that the animal had been running
on the stumps."

CHAPTER V

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS

It was eight o'clock before we finished breakfast in
the morning, but we did not wish to begin the motion
picture photography until the sun was high enough
above the horizon to give us a clear field for work.
Charles and I rigged the tripod firmly in the tonneau
of one of the cars. Mrs. Mac and Wang, a Chinese
driver, were in the front seat, while Yvette and I
squeezed in beside the camera. The Coltmans, Mac,
and Owen occupied the other motor. We found a
herd of antelope within a mile of camp and they pa-
raded in beautiful formation as the car approached. It
would have made a splendid picture, but although the
two automobiles were of the same make, there was a
vast difference in their speed and it was soon evident
that we could not keep pace with the other motor.
After two or three ineffectual attempts we roped the
camera in the most powerful car, the three men came
in with me, and the women transferred to Wang's ma-
chine.

The last herd of antelope had disappeared over a long
hill, and when we reached the summit we saw that they
had separated into four groups and scattered about
on the plains below us. We selected the largest, con-

50

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 61

taining about fifty animals, and ran toward it as fast
as the car could travel. The herd divided when we
were still several hundred yards away, but the larger
part gave promise of swinging across our path. The
ground was thinly covered with short bunch grass, and
when we reached a speed of thirty-five miles an hour
the car was bounding and leaping over the tussocks
like a ship in a heavy gale. I tried to stand, but after
twice being almost pitched out bodily I gave it up and
operated the camera by kneeling on the rear seat.
Mac helped anchor me by sitting on my left leg, and
we got one hundred feet of film from the first herd.
Races with three other groups gave us two hundred
feet more, and as the gasoline in our tank was alarm-
ingly depleted we turned back toward camp.

Unfortunately I did not reload the camera with a
fresh roll of film and thereby missed one of the most
unusual and interesting pictures which ever could be
obtained upon the plains. The tents were already in
sight when a wolf suddenly appeared on the crest of
a grassy knoll. He looked at us for a moment and
then set off at an easy lope. The temptation was too
great to be resisted even though there was a strong
possibility that we might be stalled in the desert with
no gas.

The ground was smooth and hard, and our speed-
ometer showed forty miles an hour. We soon began
to gain, but for three miles he gave us a splendid race.
Suddenly, as we came over a low hill, we saw an enor-
mous herd of antelope directly in front of us. They

52 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

were not more than two hundred yards away, and the
wolf made straight for them. Panic-stricken at the
sight of their hereditary enemy followed by the roaring
car, they scattered wildly and then swung about to
cross our path. The wolf dashed into their midst and
the herd divided as though cut by a knife. Some turned
short about, but the others kept on toward us until I
thought we would actually run them down. When not
more than fifty yards from the motor they wheeled
sharply and raced along beside the wolf.

To add to the excitement a fat, yellow marmot, which
seemed suddenly to have lost his mind, galloped over
the plain as fast as his short legs could carry him until
he remembered that safety lay underground; then he
popped into his burrow like a billiard ball into a pocket.
With this strange assortment fleeing in front of the
car we felt as though we had invaded a zoological gar-
den.

The wolf paid not the slightest attention to the an-
telope for he had troubles of his own. We were almost
on him, and I could see his red tongue between the
foam-flecked jaws. Suddenly he dodged at right an-
gles, and it was only by a clever bit of driving that
Charles avoided crashing into him with the left front
wheel. Before we could swing about the wolf had
gained five hundred yards, but he was almost done.
In another mile we had him right beside the car, and
Coltman leaned far out to kill him with his pistol. The
first bullet struck so close behind the animal that it
turned him half over, and he dodged again just in time

I

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 53

to meet a shot from Mac's rifle which broke his back.
With its dripping lips drawn over a set of ugly teeth,
the beast glared at us, as much as to say, "It is your
move next, but don't come top close." Had it been
any animal except a wolf I should have felt a twinge
of pity, but I had no sympathy for the skulking brute.
There will be more antelope next year because of its
death.

All this had happened with an unloaded camera in
the automobile. I had tried desperately to adjust a
new roll of film, but had given up in despair for it was
difficult enough even to sit in the bounding car. Were
I to spend the remainder of my life in Mongolia there
might never be such a chance again.

But we had an opportunity to learn just how fast a
wolf can run, for the one we had killed was undoubt-
edly putting his best foot forward. I estimated that
even at first he was not doing more than thirty-five
miles an hour, and later we substantiated it on another,
which gave us a race of twelve miles. With antelope
which can reach fifty-five to sixty miles an hour a wolf
has little chance, unless he catches them unawares, or
finds the newly born young. To avoid just this the
antelope are careful to stay well out on the plains
where there are no rocks or hills to conceal a skulking
wolf.

The wolf we had killed was shedding its hair and pre-
sented a most dilapidated, moth-eaten appearance;
moreover, it had just been feeding on the carcass of a
dead camel, which subsequently we discovered a mile

64 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

away. When we reached camp I directed the two
taxidermists to prepare the skeleton of the wolf , but to
keep well away from the tents.

Charles and I had been talking a good deal about
antelope steak, and for tiffin I had cut the fillets from
one of the young gazelle. We were very anxious to
"make good" on all that had been promised, so we
cooked the^ steak ourselves. Just when the party was
assembled in the tent for luncheon the Chinese began
work upon the wolf. They had obediently gone to a
considerable distance to perform the last rites, but had
not chosen wisely in regard to the wind. As the an-
telope steak was brought in, a gentle breeze wafted with
it a concentrated essence of defunct camel. Yvette
put down her knife and fork and looked up. She
caught my eye and burst out laughing. Mrs. Mac
had her hand clasped firmly over her mouth and on her
face was an expression of horror and deathly nausea.

Although I am a great lover of antelope steak, I will
admit that when accompanied by parfum de chameau,
especially when it is a very dead chameau, there are
other things more attractive. Moreover, the antelope
which we killed on the Panj-kiang plain really were
very strong indeed. I have never been able to discover
what was the cause, for those farther to the north were
as delicious as any we have ever eaten. The introduc-
tion was such an unfortunate one that the party shied
badly whenever antelope meat was mentioned during
the remainder of the trip to Urga. Coltman, who had
charge of the commissary, quite naturally expected that

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 65

we would depend largely on meat and had not provided
a sufficiency of other food. As a result we found that
after the third day rations were becoming very short.

We camped that night at a well in a sandy river
bottom about ten miles beyond Ude, the halfway point
on the trip to Urga. It had been a bad day, with a bit-
terly cold wind which drove the dust and tiny pebbles
against our faces like a continual storm of hail. As
soon as the cars had stopped every one of us set to work
with soap and water before anything had been done
toward making camp. Our one desire was to remove
a part of the dirt which had sifted into our eyes, hair,
mouths, and ears. In half an hour we looked more
brightly upon the world and began to wonder what
we would have for dinner. It was a discussion which
could not be carried on for very long since the bread
was almost gone and only macaroni remained. Just
then a demoiselle crane alighted beside the well not
forty yards away. "There's our dinner," Charles
shouted, "shoot it."

Two minutes later I was stripping off the feathers,
and in less than five minutes it was sizzling in the pan.
That was a bit too much for Mrs. Mac, hungry as
she was. "Just think," she said, "that bird was walk-
ing about here not ten minutes ago and now it's on my
plate. It hasn't stopped wiggling yet. I can't eat it!"

Poor girl, she went to bed hungry, and in the nighi
waked to find her face terribly swollen from wind and
sunburn. She was certain that she was about to die,
but decided, like the "good sport" she is, to die alone

56 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

upon the hillside where she wouldn't disturb the camp.
After half an hour of wandering about she felt better,
and returned to her sleeping bag on the sandy river
bottom.

Just before dark we heard the dongj dong, dong of
a camel's bell and saw the long line of dusty yellow
animals swing around a sharp earth-corner into the
sandy space beside the well. Like the trained units of
an army each camel came into position, kneeled upon
the ground and remained quietly chewing its cud until
the driver removed the load. Long before the last
straggler had arrived the tents were up and a fire blaz-
ing, and far into the night the thirsty beasts grunted
and roared as the trough was filled with water.

For thirty-six days they had been on the road, and
yet were only halfway across the desert. Every
day had been exactly like the day before — an endless
routine of eating and sleeping, camp -making and camp-
breaking in sun, rain, or wind. The monotony of it
all would be appalling to a westerner, but the Oriental
mind seems peculiarly adapted to accept it with entire
contentment. Long before daylight they were on the
road again, and when we awoke only the smoking em-
bers of an argul fire remained as evidence that they
ever had been there.

Mongolia, as we saw it in the spring, was very dif-
ferent from Mongolia of the early autumn. The hills
and plains stretched away in limitless waves of brown
untinged by the slightest trace of green, and in shaded
corners among rocks there were still patches of snow

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 67

or ice. Instead of resembling the grassy plains of
Kansas or Nebraska, now it was like a real desert and
I had difficulty in justifying to Yvette and Mac my
glowing accounts of its potential resources.

Moreover, the human life was just as disappointing
as the lack of vegetation, for we were "between sea-
sons" on the trail. The winter traffic was almost ended,
and the camels would not be replaced by cart caravans
until the grass was long enough to provide adequate
food for oxen and horses. The yurts, which often are
erected far out upon the plains away from water when
snow is on the ground, had all been moved near the
wells or to the summer pastures; and sometimes we
traveled a hundred miles without a glimpse of even
a solitary Mongol.

Ude had been left far behind, and we were bowl-
ing along on a road as level as a floor, when we saw
two wolves quietly watching us half a mile away. We
had agreed not to chase antelope again ; but wolves were
fair game at any time. Moreover, we were particu-
larly glad to be able to check our records as to how fast
a wolf can run when conditions are in its favor. Colt-
man signaled Mac to await us with the others, and
we swung toward the animals which were trotting
slowly westward, now and then stopping to look back
as though reluctant to leave such an unusual exhibition
as the car was giving them. A few moments later,
however, they decided that curiosity might prove dan-
gerous and began to run in earnest.

They separated almost immediately, and we raced

68 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

after the larger of the two, a huge fellow with rangy-
legs which carried him forward in a long, swinging
lope. The ground was perfect for the car, and the
speedometer registered forty miles an hour. He had
a thousand-yard start, but we gained rapidly, and I
estimated that he never reached a greater speed than
thirty miles an hour. Charles was very anxious to kill
the brute from the motor with his .45 caliber automatic
pistol, and I promised not to shoot.

The wolf was running low to the ground, his head
a little to one side watching us with one bloodshot
eye. He was giving us a great race, but the odds were
all against him, and finally we had him right beside
the motor. Leaning far out, Coltman fired quickly.
The bullet struck just behind the brute, and he swerved
sharply, missing the right front wheel by a scant six
inches. Before Charles could turn the car he had
gained three hundred yards, but we reached him again
in little more than a mile. As Coltman was about to
shoot a second time, the wolf suddenly dropped from
sight. Almost on the instant the car plunged over a
bank four feet in height, landed with a tremendous
shock — and kept on! Charles had seen the danger in
a flash, and had thrown his body against the wheel to
hold it steady. Had he not been an expert driver we
should inevitably have turned upside down and prob-
ably all would have been killed.

We stopped an instant to inspect the springs, but
by a miracle not a leaf was broken. The wolf halted,
too, and we could see him standing on a gentle rise with

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 69

drooping head, his gray sides heaving. He seemed to
be "all in," but to our amazement he was off again like
the wind even before the car had started. During the
last three miles the ground had been changing rap-
idly, and We soon reached a stony plain where there
was imminent danger of smashing a front wheel. The
wolf was heading directly toward a rocky slope which
lay against the sky like the spiny back of some gigan-
tic monster of the past.

His strategy had almost won the race. For a mo-
ment the wolf rested on the ridge, and I leaped out to
shoot, but instantly he dropped behind the bowlders.
Leaving me to intercept the animal, Charles swung be-
hind the ridge only to run at full speed into a sandy
pocket. The motor ceased to throb, and the race was
ended.

These wolves are sneaking carrion-feeders and as
such I detest them, but this one had "played the game."
For twelve long miles he had kept doggedly at his work
without a whimper or a cry of "kamerad." The brute
had outgeneraled us completely, had won by strategy
and magnificent endurance. Whatever he supposed the
roaring car to be, instinct told him that safety lay
among the rocks and he led us there as straight as an
arrow's flight.

The animal seemed to take an almost human enjoy-
ment in the way we had been tricked, for he stood on
a hillside half a mile away watching our efforts to ex-
tricate the car. We were in a bad place, and it was
evident that the only method of escape was to remove

60 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

all the baggage which was tied to the running boards.
Spreading our fur sleeping bags upon the sand, we
pushed and lifted the automobile to firm ground after
an hour of strenuous work. Hardly had we started
back to the road, when Charles suddenly clapped both
hands to his face yelling, "My Lord, I'm burning up.
What is it? I'm all on fire."

Mrs. Coltman pulled his hands away, revealing his
face covered with blotches and rising blisters. At the
same moment Yvette and I felt a shower of liquid fire
stinging our hands and necks. We leaped out of the
car just as another blast swept back upon us. Then
Charles shouted, "I know. It's the Delco plant," and
dived toward the front mud guard. Sure enough, the
cover had been displaced from one of the batteries, and
little pools of sulphuric acid had formed on the leather
casings. The wind was blowing half a gale, and each
gust showered us with drops of colorless liquid which
bit like tiny, living coals.

In less than ten seconds I had slashed the ropes and
the batteries were lying on the ground, but the acid
had already done its work most thoroughly. The duffle
sacks containing all our field clothes had received a lib-
eral dose, and during the summer Yvette was kept busy
patching shirts and trousers. I never would have
believed that a little acid could go so far. Even gar-
ments in the very center of the sacks would suddenly
disintegrate when we put them on, and the Hutukhtu
and his electric plant were ''blessed" many times before
we left Mongolia.

t

o e • e t • <

THE PRISON AT UHGA

A CRIMINAL IX A COFFIX WITH HANDS MANACLED

I

ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS 61

When we reached the road, Mrs. Mae was sitting
disconsolately in a car beside the servants. We had
been gone nearly three hours and the poor girl was
frantic with anxiety. Mac and Owen had followed
our tracks in another motor, and arrived thirty min-
utes later. Mac's happy face was drawn and white.

"I wouldn't go through that experience again for
all the money in Mongolia," he said. "We followed
your tracks and at every hill expected to find you dead
on the other side and the car upside down. How on
earth did you miss capsizing when you went over that
bank?"

At Turin we found Mr. and Mrs. Mamen camped
near the telegraph station awaiting our arrival. The
first cry was "Food! Food!" and two loaves of Russian
bread which they had brought from Urga vanished in
less than fifteen minutes. After taking several hun-
dred feet of "movie" film at the monastery, we ran on
northward over a road which was as smooth and hard
as a billiard table. The Turin plain was alive with
game; marmots, antelope, hares, bustards, geese, and
cranes seemed to have concentrated there as though in
a vast zoological garden, and we had some splendid
shooting. But as Yvette and I spent two glorious
months on this same plain, I will tell in future chapters
how, in long morning horseback rides and during silent
starlit nights, we learned to know and love it.

CHAPTER VI

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA

Far up in noifthern Mongolia, where the forests
stretch in an unbroken line to the Siberian frontier,
lies Urga, the Sacred City of the Living Buddha. The
world has other sacred cities, but none like this. It is
a relic of medieval times overlaid with a veneer of twen-
tieth-century civilization ; a city of violent contrasts and
glaring anachronisms. Motor cars pass camel cara-
vans fresh from the vast, lone spaces of the Gobi Des-
ert ; holy lamas, in robes of flaming red or brilliant yel-
low, walk side by side with black-gowned priests; and
swarthy Mongol women, in the fantastic headdress of
their race, stare wonderingly at the latest fashions of
their Russian sisters.

We came to Urga from the south. All day we had
been riding over rolling, treeless uplands, and late in
the afternoon we had halted on the summit of a hill
overlooking the Tola River valley. Fifteen miles away
lay Urga, asleep in the darkening shadow of the
Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain). An hour later the road
led us to our first surprise in Mai-ma-cheng, the Chi-
nese quarter of the city. Years of wandering in the
strange corners of the world had left us totally unpre-
pared for what we saw. It seemed that here in Mon-

62

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 63

golia we had discovered an American frontier outpost
of the Indian fighting days. Every house and shop was
protected by high stockades of unpeeled timbers, and
there was hardly a trace of Oriental architecture save
where a temple roof gleamed above the palisades.

Before we were able to adjust our mental perspec-
tive we had passed from colonial America into a ham-
let of modem Russia. Gayly painted cottages lined
the road, and, unconsciously, I looked for a white
church with gilded cupolas. The church was not in
sight, but its place was taken by a huge red building of
surpassing ugliness, the Russian Consulate. It stands
alone on the summit of a knoll, the open plains stretch-
ing away behind it to the somber masses of the north-
ern forests. In its imposing proportions it is tangible
evidence of the Russian Colossus which not many years
ago dominated Urga and all that is left of the ancient
empire of the Khans.

For two miles the road is bordered by Russian cot-
tages ; then it debouches into a wide square which loses
its distinctive character and becomes an indescribable
mixture of Russia, Mongolia, and China. Palisaded
compounds, gay with fluttering prayer flags, ornate
houses, felt-covered yurts, and Chinese shops mingle in
a dizzying chaos of conflicting personalities. Three
great races have met in Urga and each carries on, in
this far corner of Mongolia, its own customs and way
of life. The Mongol yurt has remained unchanged ; the
Chinese shop, with its wooden counter and blue-gowned

64? ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

inmates, is pure Chinese; and the ornate cottages pro-
claim themselves to be only Russian.

But on the street my wife and I could never forget
that we were in Mongolia. We never tired of wan-
dering through the narrow alleys, with their tiny na-
tive shops, or of watching the ever-changing crowds.
Mongols in half a dozen different tribal dresses, Tibetan
pilgrims, Manchu Tartars, or camel drivers from far
Turkestan drank and ate and gambled with Chinese
from civilized Peking.

The barbaric splendor of the native dress fairly makes
one gasp for breath. Besides gowns and sashes of daz-
zling brilliance, the men wear on their heads all the types
of covering one learned to know in the pictures of
ancient Cathay, from the high-peaked hat of yellow and
black — through the whole, strange gamut — to the helmet
with streaming peacock plumes. But were I to tell
about them all I would leave none of my poor descrip-
tive phrases for the women.

It is hopeless to draw a word-picture of a Mongol
woman. A photograph will help, but to be appreciated
she must be seen in all her colors. To begin with the
dressing of her hair. If all the women of the Orient
competed to produce a strange and fantastic type, I do
not believe that they could excel what the Mongol ma-
trons have developed by themselves.

Their hair is plaited over a frame into two enormous
flat bands, curved like the horns of a mountain sheep
and reenforced with bars of wood or silver. Each horn
ends in a silver plaque, studded with bits of colored glass

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 65

or stone, and supports a pendent braid like a riding
quirt. On her head, between the horns, she wears a sil-
ver cap elaborately chased and flashing with "jewels."
Surmounting this is a "saucer" hat of black and yellow.
Her skirt is of gorgeous brocade or cloth, and the jacket
is of like material with prominent "puffs" upon the
shoulders. She wears huge leather boots with upturned,
pointed toes, similar to those of the men, and when in
full array she has a whole portiere of beadwork sus-
pended from the region of her ears.

She is altogether satisfying to the lover of fantastic
Oriental costumes, except in the matter of footgear, and
this slight exception might be allowed, for she has so
amply decorated every other available part of her
anatomy.

Moreover, the boots form a very necessary adjunct
to her personal equipment, besides providing a cover-
ing for her feet. They are many sizes too large, of
course, but they furnish ample space during the bitter
cold of winter for the addition of several pairs of socks,
varying in number according to the thermometer. Dur-
ing the summer she often wears no socks at all, but their
place is taken by an assortment of small articles which
cannot be carried conveniently on her person. Her pipe
and tobacco, a package of tea, or a wooden bowl can
easily be stuffed into the wide top boots, for pockets are
an unknown luxury even to the men.

In its kaleidoscopic mass of life and color the city is
like a great pageant on the stage of a theater, with the
added fascination of reality. But, somehow, I could

66 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

never quite make myself believe that it tmis real when a
brilliant group of horsemen in pointed, yellow hats and
streaming, peacock feathers dashed down the street. It
seemed too impossible that I, a wandering naturalist of
the drab, prosaic twentieth century, and my American
wife were really a living, breathing part of this strange
drama of the Orient.

But there was one point of contact which we had with
this dream-life of the Middle Ages. Yvette and I both
love horses, and the way to a Mongol's heart is through
his pony. Once on horseback we began to identify our-
selves with the fascinating life around us. We lost the
uncomfortable sense of being merely spectators in the
Urga theatricals, and forgot that we had come to the
holy city by means of a very unromantic motor car.

We remained at Urga for ten days while preparations
were under way for our first trip to the plains, and re-
turned to it often during the summer. We came to
know it well, and each time we rode down the long street
it seemed more wonderful that, in these days of com-
merce, Urga, and in fact all Mongolia, could have ex-
isted throughout the centuries with so little change.

There is, of course, no lack of modern influence in the
sacred city, but as yet it is merely a veneer which has
been lightly superimposed upon its ancient civilization,
leaving almost untouched the basic customs of its peo-
ple. This has been due to the remoteness of Mongolia.
Until a few years ago, when motor cars first made their
way across the seven hundred miles of plains, the only
access from the south was by camel caravan, and the

I

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 67

monotonous trip offered little inducement to casual trav-
elers. The Russians came to TJrga from the north and,
until the recent war, their influence was paramount
along the border. They were by no means anxious to
have other foreigners exploit Mongolia, and they wished
especially to keep the country as a buffer-state between
themselves and China.

Not only is Urga the capital of Mongolia and the
only city of considerable size in the entire country but
it is also the residence of the Hutukhtu, or Living
Buddha, the head of both the Church and the State.
Across the valley his palaces nestle close against the
base of the Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain), which rises in
wooded slopes from the river to an elevation of eleven
thousand feet above sea level.

The Sacred Mountain is a vast game preserve, which
is patrolled by two thousand lamas, and every approach
is guarded by a temple or a camp of priests. Great
herds of elk, roebuck, boar, and other animals roam the
forests, but to shoot within the sacred precincts would
mean almost certain death for the transgressor. Some
years ago several Russians from Urga made their way
up the mountain during the night and killed a bear.
They were brought back in chains by a mob of frenzied
lamas. Although the hunters had been beaten nearly to
death, it required all the influence of the Russian diplo-
matic agent to save what remained of their lives.

The Bogdo-ol extends for twenty-five miles along the
Tola Valley, shutting off Urga from the rolling plains
to the south. Like a gigantic guardian of the holy city

68 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

at its base, it stands as the only obstacle to the wireless
station which is soon to be erected.

The Hutukhtu has three palaces on the banks of the
Tola River. One of them is a hideous thing, built in
Russian style. The other two at least have the virtue
of native architecture. In the main palace the cen-
tral structure is white with gilded cupolas, and smaller
pavilions at the side have roofs of green. The whole is
surrounded by an eight-foot stockade of white posts
trimmed with red.

The Hutukhtu seldom leaves his palace now, for he
is old and sick and almost blind. Many strange stories
are told of the mysterious "Living God" which tend to
show him "as of the earth earthy." It is said that in
former days he sometimes left his "heaven" to revel with
convivial foreigners in Urga; but all this is gossip and
we are discussing a very saintly person. His passion
for Occidental trinkets and inventions is well known,
however, and his palace is a veritable storehouse
for gramophones, typewriters, microscopes, sewing
machines, and a host of other things sold to him by
Russian traders and illustrated in picture catalogues
sent from the uttermost corners of the world. But like
a child he soon tires of his toys and throws them aside.
He has a motor car, but he never rides in it. It has been
reported that his chief use for the automobile is to attach
a wire to its batteries and give his ministers an electric
shock; for all Mongols love a practical joke, and the
Hutukhtu is no exception.

Now his palace is wired for electricity, and a great arc

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 69

light illuminates the courtyard. One evening Mr. Lu-
cander and Mr. Mamen, who sold the electric plant to
the Hutukhtu, were summoned to the palace to receive
payment. They ^witnessed a scene which to-day could
be possible only in Mongolia. Several thousand dollars
in silver were brought outside to their motor car, and
the lama, who paid the bills, insisted that they count it in
his presence.

A great crowd of Mongols had gathered near the pal-
ace and at last a long rope was let out from one of the
buildings. Kneeling, the Mongols reverently touched
the rope, which was gently waggled from the other end,
supposedly by the Hutukhtu. A barbaric monotone of
chanted prayers arose from the kneeling suppliants, and
the rope was waggled again. Then the Mongols rode
away, silent with awe at having been blessed by the
Living God. All this under a blazing electric light be-
side an automobile at the foot of the Bogdo-ol!

The Hutukhtu seemed to feel that it became his sta-
tion as a ruling monarch to have a foreign house with
foreign furniture. Of course he never intended to live
in it, but other kings had useless palaces and why
shouldn't he ? Therefore, a Russian atrocity of red brick
was erected a half mile or so from his other dwellings.
The furnishing became a matter of moment, and Mr.
Lucander, who was temporarily in the employ of the
Mongolian Government, wasantrusted with the task of
attending to the intimate details. The selection of a
bed was most important, for even Living Buddhas have
to sleep sometimes — ^they cannot always be blessing

70 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

adoring subjects or playing jokes on their ministers of
state. With considerable difficulty a foreign bed was
purchased and brought across the seven hundred miles
of plains and desert to the red brick palace on the banks
of the Tola River.

Mr. Lucander superintended its installation in the
Hutukhtu's boudoir and himself turned chambermaid.
As this was the first time he had ever made a bed for a
Living God, he arranged the spotless sheets and turned
down the covers with the greatest care. When all was
done to his satisfaction he reported to one of the Hu-
tukhtu's ministers that the bed was ready. Two lamas,
high dignitaries of the church, were the inspection com-
mittee. They agreed that it looked all right, but the
question was, how did it feel? Mr. Lucander waxed elo-
quent on the "springiness" of the springs, and assured
them that no bed could be better; that this was the bed
par excellence of all the beds in China. The lamas held
a guttural consultation and then announced that before
the bed could be accepted it must be tested. Therefore,
without more ado, each lama in his dirty boots and gown
laid his unwashed self upon the bed, and bounced up
and down. The result was satisfactory — except to Lu-
cander and the sheets.

Although to foreign eyes and in the cold light of
modernity the Hutukhtu and his government cut a some-
what ridiculous figure, the reverse of the picture is the
pathetic death struggle of a once glorious race. I have
said that unaccustomed luxury was responsible for the
decline of the Mongol Empire, but the ruin of the race

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 71

was due to the Lama Church. Lamaism, which was in-
troduced from Tibet, gained its hold not long after the
time of Kublai Khan's death in 1295. Previous to this
the Mongols had been religious liberals, but eventually
Lamaism was made the religion of the state. It is a
branch of the Buddhist cult, and its teachings are
against war and violent death.

By custom one or more sons of every family are dedi-
cated to the priesthood, and as Lamaism requires its
priests to be celibate, the birth rate is low. To-day there
are only a few million Mongols in a country half as
large as the United States (exclusive of Alaska), a
great proportion of the male population being lamas.
With no education, except in the books of their sect,
they lead a lazy, worthless existence, supported by the
lay population and by the money they extract by prey-
ing upon the superstitions of their childlike brothers.
Were Lamaism abolished there still would be hope for
Mongolia under a proper government, for the Mongols
of to-day are probably the equals of Genghis Khan's
warriors in strength, endurance, and virility.

The religion of Mongolia is like that of Tibet and the
Dalai Lama of Lhassa is the head of the entire Church.
The Tashi Lama residing at Tashilumpo, also in Tibet,
ranks second. The Hutukhtu of Mongolia is third in the
Lama hierarchy, bearing the title Cheptswndampa Hv^
tukhtu (Venerable Best Saint). According to ancient
tradition, the Hutukhtu never dies; his spirit simply
reappears in the person of some newly born infant and
thus comes forth reembodied. The names of infants.

7« ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

who have been selected as possible candidates for the
honor, are written upon slips of paper incased in rolls
of paste and deposited in a golden urn. The one which
is drawn is hailed as the new incarnation.

Some years ago the eyesight of the Hutukhtu began
to fail, and a great temple was erected as a sacrifice to
appease the gods. It stands on a hill at the western end
of Urga, surrounded by the tiny wooden dwellings of
the priests. "The Lama City" it is called, for only those
in the service of the Church are allowed to live within
its sacred precincts. In the temple itself there is an
eighty-foot bronze image of Buddha standing on a
golden lotus flower. The great figure is heavily gilded,
incrusted with precious stones, and draped with silken
cloths.

I was fortunate in being present one day when the
temple was opened to women and the faithful in the
city. Somewhat doubtful as to my reception, I followed
the crowd as it filed through an outer pavilion between
a double row of kneeling lamas in high-peaked hats and
robes of flaming yellow. I carried my hat in my hand
and tried to wear a becoming expression of humility and
reverence. It was evidently successful, for I passed un-
hindered into the Presence. At the entrance stood a
priest who gave me, with the others, a few drops of holy
water from a filthy jug. Silent with awe, the people
bathed their faces with the precious fluid and prostrated
themselves before the gigantic figure standing on the
golden lotus blossom, its head lost in the shadows of the
temple roof. They kissed its silken draperies, soiled by

i

c - ,- « ,

LAMAS CALLING THE GODS AT A TEMPLE IN URGA

MONGOL PRAYING AT A SHRINE IN URGA

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 73

the lips of other thousands, and each one gathered a
handful of sacred dirt from the temple floor. From
niches in the walls hundreds of tiny Buddhas gazed im-
passively on the worshiping Mongols.

The scene was intoxicating in its barbaric splendor.
The women in their fantastic headdresses and brilliant
gowns ; the blazing yellow robes of the kneeling lamas ;
and the chorus of prayers which rose and fell in a mean-
ingless half -wild chant broken by the clash of cymbals
and the boom of drums — all this set the blood leaping
in my veins. There was a strange dizziness in my
head, and I had an almost overpowering desire to fall
on my knees with the Mongols and join in the chorus
of adoration. The subtle smell of burning incense, the
brilliant colors, and the barbaric music were like an in-
toxicating drink which inflamed the senses but dulled the
brain. It was then that I came nearest to understand-
ing the religious fanaticism of the East. Even with a
background of twentieth-century civilization I felt its
sensuous power. What wonder that it has such a hold
on a simple, uneducated people, fed on superstition from
earliest childhood and the religious traditions of seven
hundred years I

The service ended abruptly in a roar of sound. Ris-
ing to their feet, the people streamed into the courtyard
to whirl the prayer wheels about the temple's base.
Each wheel is a hollow cylinder of varying size, standing
on end, and embellished with Tibetan characters in gold.
The wheels are sometimes filled with thousands of slips
of paper upon which is written a prayer or a sacred

74. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

thought, and each revolution adds to the store of merit
in the future life.

The Mongol goes farther still in accumulating virtue,
and every native house in Urga is gay with fluttering
bits of cloth or paper on which a prayer is written. Each
time the little flag moves in the wind it sends forth a
supplication for the welfare of the Mongol's spirit in
the Buddhistic heaven. 'Not only are the prayer wheels
found about the temples, but they line the streets, and
no visiting Mongol need be deprived of trying the virtue
of a new device without going to a place of worship.
He can give a whirl or two to half a dozen within a hun-
dred yards of where he buys his tea or sells his sheep.

On every hand there is constant evidence that Urga
is a sacred city. It never can be forgotten even for a
moment. The golden roofs of scores of temples give
back the sunlight, and the moaning chant of praying
lamas is always in the air. Even in the main street I
have seen the prostrate forms of ragged pilgrims who
have journeyed far to this Mecca of the lama faith.
If they are entering the city for the first time and crave
exceeding virtue, they approach the great temple on the ',
hill by lying face down at every step and beating their
foreheads upon the ground. Wooden shrines of daz-
zling whiteness stand in quiet streets or cluster by them-
selves behind the temples. In front of each, raised
slightly at one end, is a prayer board worn black and
smooth by the prostrated bodies of worshiping Mongols.

Although the natives take such care for the repose of l
the spirit in after life, they have a strong distaste for

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 76

the body from which the spirit has fled and they consider
it a most undesirable thing to have about the house. The
stigma is imposed even upon the dying. In Urga a
family of Mongols had erected their yurt in the court-
yard of one of our friends. During the summer the
young wife became very ill, and when her husband was
convinced that she was about to die he moved the poor
creature bodily out of the yvrt. She could die if she
wished, but it must not be inside his house.

The corpse itself is considered unclean and the abode
of evil spirits, and as such must be disposed of as quickly
as possible. Sometimes the whole family will pack up
their yui't and decamp at once, leaving the body where it
lies. More usually the corpse is loaded upon' a cart
which is driven at high speed over a bit of rough ground.
The body drops off at some time during the journey, but
the driver does not dare look back until he is sure that
the unwelcome burden is no longer with him; otherwise
he might anger the spirit following the corpse and
thereby cause himself and his family unending trouble.
Unlike the Chinese, who treat their dead with the great-
est respect and go to enormous expense in the burial,
every Mongol knows that his coffin will be the stomachs
of dogs, wolves, or birds. Indeed, the Chinese name for
the raven is the "Mongol's coffin."

The first day we camped in Urga, my wife and Mrs.
MacCallie were walking beside the river. Only a short
distance from our tent they discovered a dead Mongol
who had just been dragged out of the city. A pack of

76 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

dogs were in the midst of their feast and the sight was
most unpleasant.

The dogs of Mongolia are savage almost beyond be-
lief. They are huge black fellows like the Tibetan mas-
tiff, and their diet of dead human flesh seems to have
given them a contempt for living men. Every Mongol
family has one or more, and it is exceedingly dangerous
for a man to approach a yurt or caravan unless he is on
horseback or has a pistol ready. In Urga itself you will
probably be attacked if you walk unarmed through the
meat market at night. I have never visited Constanti-
nople, but if the Turkish city can boast of more dogs
than Urga, it must be an exceedingly disagreeable place
in which to dwell. Although the dogs live to a large ex-
tent upon human remains, they are also fed by the
lamas. Every day about four o'clock in the afternoon
you can see a cart being driven through the main street,
followed by scores of yelping dogs. On it are two or
more dirty lamas with a great barrel from which they
ladle out refuse for the dogs, for according to their
religious beliefs they accumulate great merit for them-
selves if they prolong the life of anything, be it bird,
beast, or insect.

In the river valley, just below the Lama City, num-
bers of dogs can always be found, for the dead priests
usually are thrown there to be devoured. Dozens of
white skulls lie about in the grass, but it is a serious
matter even to touch one. I very nearly got into trouble
one day by targeting my rifle upon a skull which lay
two or three hundred yards away from our tent.

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 77

The customs of the Mongols are not all as gruesome
as those I have described, yet Urga is essentially a
frontier city where life is seen in the raw. Its natives
are a hard-living race, virile beyond compare. Children
of the plains, they are accustomed to privation and fa-
tigue. Their law is the law of the northland:

". . . . That only the Strong shall thrive,

That surely the Weak shall perish and only the Fit survive."

In the careless freedom of his magnificent horseman-
ship a Mongol seems as much an untamed creature of
the plains as does the eagle itself which soars above his
yurt. Independence breathes in every movement ; even
in his rough good humor and in the barbaric splendor of
the native dress.

But the little matter of cleanliness is of no importance
in his scheme of life. When a meal has been eaten, the
wooden bowl is licked clean with the tongue ; it is seldom
washed. Every man and woman usually carries through
life the bodily dirt which has accumulated in childhood,
unless it is removed by some accident or by the wear of
years. One can be morally certain that it will never be
washed off by design or water. Perhaps the native is
not altogether to blame, for, except in the north, water
is not abundant. It can be found on the plains and in
the Gobi Desert only at wells and an occasional pond,
and on the march it is too precious to be wasted in the
useless process of bathing. Moreover, from September
until May the bitter winds which sweep down from the

78 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Siberian steppes furnish an unpleasant temperature in
which to take a bath.

The Mongol's food consists almost entirely of mutton,
cheese, and tea. Like all northern people, he needs an
abundance of fat, and sheep supply his wants. There is
always more or less grease distributed about his clothes
and person, and when Mongols are en masse the odor
of mutton and unwashed humanity is well-nigh over-
powering.

I must admit that in morality the Mongol is but little
better off than in personal cleanliness. A man may have
only one lawful wife, but may keep as many concubines
as his means allow, all of whom live with the members
of the family in the single room of the yurt. Adultery
is openly practiced, apparently without prejudice to
either party, and polyandry is not unusual in the more
remote parts of the country.

The Mongol is unmoral rather than immoral. He
lives like an untaught child of nature and the sense
of modesty or decency, as we conceive it, does not enter
into his scheme of life. But the operation of natural
laws, which in the lower animals are successful in main-
taining the species, is fatally impaired by the loose fam-
ily relations which tend to spread disease. Unless
Lamaism is abolished I can see little hope for the re-
juvenation of the race.

In writing of Urga's inhabitants and their way of
life I am neglecting the city itself. I have already told
of the great temple on the hill and its clustering lama
houses which overlook and dominate the river valley.

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 79

Its ornate roof, flashing in the sun, can be seen for
many miles, like a religious beacon guiding the steps of
wandering pilgrims to the Mecca of their faith.

At the near end of the broad street below the Lama
City is the tent market, and just beyond it are the black-
smith shops where bridles, cooking pots, tent pegs, and
all the equipment essential to a wandering life on the
desert can be purchased in an hour — if you have the
price! Nothing is cheap in Urga, with the exception of
horses, and when we began to outfit for our trip on the
plains we received a shock similar to that which I had
a month ago in New York, when I paid twenty dollars
for a pair of shoes. We ought to be hardened to it now,
but when we were being robbed in Urga by profiteering
Chinese, who sell flour at ten and twelve dollars a sack
and condensed milk at seventy-five cents a tin, we roared
and grumbled — and paid the price! I vowed I would
never pay twenty dollars for a pair of shoes at home,
but roaring and grumbling is no more effective in pro-
curing shoes in New York than it was in obtaining flour
and milk in Urga.

We paid in Russian rubles, then worth three cents
each. ( In former years a ruble equaled more than half
a dollar.) Eggs were well-nigh nonexistent, except
those which had made their way up from China over the
long caravan trail and were guaranteed to be "addled"
— or whatever it is that sometimes makes an egg an un-
pleasant companion at the breakfast table. Even those
cost three rubles each ! Only a few Russians own chick-
ens in Urga and their productions are well-nigL "golden

80 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

eggs," for grain is very scarce and it takes an astound-
ing number of rubles to buy a bushel.

Fortunately we had sent most of our supplies and
equipment to Urga by caravan during the winter, but
there were a good many odds and ends needed to fill our
last requirements, and we came to know the ins and outs
of the sacred city intimately before we were ready to
leave for the plains. The Chinese shops were our real
help, for in Urga, as everywhere else in the Orient, the
Chinese are the most successful merchants. Some firms
have accumulated considerable wealth and the China-
man does not hesitate to exact the last cent of profit
when trading with the Mongols.

At the eastern end of Urga's central street, which is
made picturesque by gayly painted prayer wheels and
alive with a moving throng of brilliant horsemen, are
the Custom House and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
The former is at the far end of an enormous compound
filled with caiiiel caravans or loaded carts. There is a
more or less useless wooden building, but the business
is conducted in a large yurt, hard against the compound
wall. It was an extraordinary contrast to see a modern
filing-cabinet at one end and a telephone box on the felt-
covered framework of the yurt.

Not far beyond the Custom House is what I believe
to be one of the most horrible prisons in the world. In-
side a double palisade of unpeeled timbers is a space
about ten feet square upon which open the doors of
small rooms, almost dark. In these dungeons are piled

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 81

wooden boxes, four feet long by two and one-half feet
high. These eofSns are the prisoners' cells.

Some of the poor wretches have heavy chains about
their necks and both hands manacled together. They
can neither sit erect nor lie at full length. Their food,
when the jailer remembers to give them any, is pushed
through a six-inch hole in the coffin's side. Some are
imprisoned here for only a few days or weeks; others
for life, or for many years. Sometimes they lose the
use of their limbs, which shrink and shrivel away. The
agony of their cramped position is beyond the power of
words to describe. Even in winter, when the tempera-
ture drops, as it sometimes does, to sixty degrees below
zero, they are given only a single sheepskin for covering.
How it is possible to live in indescribable filth, half-fed,
well-nigh frozen in winter, and suffering the tortures of
the damned, is beyond my ken — only a Mongol could
live at all.

The prison is not a Mongol invention. It was built
by the Manchus and is an eloquent tribute to a knowl-
edge of the fine arts of cruelty that has never been sur-
passed.

I have given this description of the prison not to feed
morbid curiosity, but to show that Urga, even if it has
a Custom House, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs, motor
cars, and telephones, is still at heart a city of the Middle
Ages.

In Urga we made a delightful and most valuable
friend in the person of Mr. F. A. Larsen. Most for-
eigners speak of him as "Larsen of Mongolia" and in-

82 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

deed it is difficult for us to think of the country without
thinking of the man. Some thirty years ago he rode
into Mongolia and liked it. He liked it so much, in fact,
that he dug a well and built a house among the Tabool
hills a hundred miles north of Kalgan. At first he la-
bored with his wife as a missionary, but later he left
that field to her and took up the work which he loved
best in all the world — ^the buying and selling of horses.

During his years of residence in Mongolia hundreds
of thousands of horses have passed under his appraising
eyes and the Mongols respect his judgment as they re-
spect the man. I wish that I might write the story of
his life, for it is more interesting than any novel of ro-
mance or adventure. In almost every recent event of
importance to the Mongols Mr. Larsen's name has
figured. Time after time he has been sent as an emis-
sary of the Living Buddha to Peking when misunder-
standings or disturbances threatened the political peace
of Mongolia. Not only does he understand the psy-
chology of the natives, but he knows every hill and plain
of their vast plateau as well as do the desert nomads.

For some time he had been in charge of Andersen,
Meyer's branch at Urga with Mr. E. W. Olufsen and
we made their house our headquarters. Mr. Larsen im-
mediately undertook to obtain an outfit for our work
upon the plains. He purchased two riding ponies for
us from Prince Tze Tze; he borrowed two carts with
harness from a Russian friend, and bought another ; he
loaned us a riding pony for our Mongol, a cart horse of
his own, and Mr. Olufsen contributed another. He

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THE FRAMEWORK OF A "yURt"

MONGOL WOMEN AXD A LAMA

THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA 83

made our equipment a personal matter and he was never
too busy to assist us in the smallest details. Moreover,
we could spend hours listening to the t)ales of his early-
life, for his keen sense of humor made him a delightful
story-teller. One of the most charming aspects of our
wandering life is the friends we have made in far corners
of the world, and for none have we a more affectionate
regard than for "Larsen of Mongolia."

CHAPTER VII

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN

Our arrival in Urga was in the most approved man-
ner of the twentieth century. We came in motor cars
with much odor of gasoline and noise of horns. When
we left the sacred city we dropped back seven hundred
years and went as the Mongols traveled. Perhaps it
was not quite as in the days of Genghis Khan, for we
had three high-wheeled carts of a Russian model, but
they were every bit as springless and uncomfortable as
the palanquins of the ancient emperors.

Of course, we ourselves did not ride in carts. They
were driven by our cook and the two Chinese taxider-
mists, each of whom sat on his own particular mound of
baggage with an air of resignation and despondency.
Their faces were very long indeed, for the sudden tran-
sition from the back seat of a motor car to a jolting cart
did not harmonize with their preconceived scheme of
Mongolian life. But they endured it manfully, and
doubtless it added much to the store of harrowing expe-
rience with which they could regale future audiences in
civilized Peking.

My wife and I were each mounted on a Mongol pony.
Mine was called "Kublai Khan" and he deserved the
name. Later I shall have much to tell of this wonderful

84

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 86

horse, for I learned to love him as one loves a friend who
has endured the "ordeal by fire" and has not been found
wanting. My wife's chestnut stallion was a trifle
smaller than Kublai Khan and proved to be a tricky
beast whom I could have shot with pleasure. To this
day she carries the marks of both his teeth and hoofs,
and we have no interest in his future life. Kublai Khan
has received the reward of a sunlit stable in Peking
where carrots are in abundance and sugar is not un-
known.

Besides the three Chinese we had a little Mongol
priest, a yellow lama only eighteen years of age. We
did not hire him for spiritual reasons, but to be our
guide and social mentor upon the plains. Of course,
we could not speak Mongol, but both my wife and I
know some Chinese and our cook-boy Lii was possessed
of a species of "pidgin English" which, by using a
good deal of imagination, we could understand at times.
Since our lama spoke fluent Chinese, he acted as inter-
preter with the Mongols, and we had no difficulty. It
is wonderful how much you can do with sign language
when you really have to, especially if the other fellow
tries to understand. You always can be sure that the
Mongols will match your eff^orts in this respect.

An interesting part of our equipment was a Mongol
tent which Charles Coltman had had made for us in Kal-
gan. This is an ingenious adaptation of the ordinary
wall tent, and is especially fitted for work on the plains.
No one should attempt to use any other kind. From the
ridgepole the sides curve down and out to the groimd,

86 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

presenting a sloping surface to the wind at every angle.
One corner can be lifted to cause a draft through the
door and an open fire can be built in the tent without
danger of suffocation from the smoke ; moreover, it can
be erected by a single person in ten minutes. We had
an American wall tent also, but found it such a nuisance
that we used it only during bad weather. In the wind
which always blows upon the plains it flapped and flut-
tered to such a degree that we could hardly sleep.

As every traveler knows, the natives of a country
usually have developed the best possible clothes and
dwellings for the peculiar conditions under which they
live. Just as the Mongol felt-covered yurt and tent are
all that can be desired, so do they know that fur and
leather are the only clothing to keep them warm during
the bitter winter months.

In the carts we had an ample supply of flour, bacon,
coffee, tea, sugar, and dried fruit. For meat, we de-
pended upon our guns, of course, and always had as
much as could be used. Although we did not travel de
ItuvCj nevertheless we were entirely comfortable. When
a man boasts of the way in which he discards even neces-
saries in the field, you can be morally certain that he has
not done much real traveling. "Roughing it" does not
harmonize well with hard work. One must accept
enough discomforts under the best conditions without
the addition of any which can be avoided. Good health
is the prime requisite in the field. Without it you are
lost. The only way in which to keep fit and ready to
give every ounce of physical and mental energy to the

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 87

problems of the day is to sleep comfortably, eat whole-
some food, and be properly clothed. It is not often,
then, that you will need a doctor. We have not as yet
had a physician on any of our expeditions, even though
we have often been very many miles from the nearest
white men.

It never ceases to amuse me that the insurance com-
panies always cancel my accident policies as soon as I
leave for the field. The excuse is that I am not a "good
risk," although they are ready enough to renew them
when I return to New York. And yet the average per-
son has a hundred times more chance of being killed or
injured right on Fifth Avenue than do we who live in
the open, breathing God's fresh air and sleeping under
the stars. My friend Stefansson, the Arctic explorer,
often says that "adventures are a mark of incompe-
tence," and he is doubtless right. If a man goes into the
field with a knowledge of the country he is to visit and
with a proper equipment, he probably will have very
few "adventures." If he has not the knowledge and
equipment he had much better remain at home, for he
will inevitably come to grief.

We learned from the Mongols that there was a won-
derful shooting ground three hundred miles southwest
of Urga in the country belonging to Sain Noin Khan.
It was a region backed by mountains fifteen thousand
feet in height, inhabited by bighorn sheep and ibex ; and
antelope were reported to be numerous upon the plains
which merged gradually into the sandy wastes of the
western Gobi where herds of wild horses (Equus prje-

88 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

valsM) and wild asses {Equus hemiorms) could be
found.

Sain Noin, one of the four Mongolian kings, had died
only a short time earlier under suspicious circumstances,
and his widow had just visited the capital. Monsieur
Orlow, the Russian Diplomatic Agent, had written her
regarding our prospective visit, and through him she
had extended to us a cordial invitation.

Our start from Urga was on a particularly beautiful
day, even for Mongolia. The golden roof of the great
white temple on the hill blazed with light, and the un-
dulating crest of the Sacred Mountain seemed so near
that we imagined we could see the deer and boar in its
parklike openings. Our way led across the valley and
over the Tola River just below the palace of the Liv-
ing God. We climbed a long hill and emerged on a slop-
ing plain where marmots were bobbing in and out of
their burrows like toy animals manipulated by a string.
Two great flocks of demoiselle cranes were daintily
catching grasshoppers not a hundred yards away. We
wanted both the cranes for dinner and the marmots for
specimens, but we dared not shoot. Although not ac-
tually upon sacred soil we were in close proximity to
the Bogdo-ol and a rifle shot might have brought a
horde of fanatical priests upon our heads. It is best to
take no chances with religious superstitions, for the
lamas do not wait to argue when they are once aroused.

The first day began most beautifully, but it ended
badly as all first days are apt to do. We met our
"Waterloo" on a steep hill shortly after tiffin, for two

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 89

of the horses absolutely refused to pull. The loads were
evidently too heavy, and the outlook for the future was
not encouraging. An extract from my wife's journal
tells what we did that afternoon.

"It took two hours to negotiate the hill, and the men
were almost exhausted when the last load reached the
summit. Ever since tifBn the sky had been growing
darker and darker, and great masses of black clouds
gathered about the crest of the Bogdo-ol. Suddenly a
vivid flash of lightning cut the sky as though with a flam-
ing knife, and the rain came down in a furious beat of icy
water. In five minutes we were soaked and shivering
with cold, so when at last we reached the plain we turned
off the road toward two Mongol yurts, which rested be-
side the river a mile away like a pair of great white birds.

"Roy and I galloped ahead over the soft, slushy grass,
nearly blinded by the rain, and hobbling our horses out-
side the nearest yurt, went inside with only the formality
of a shout. The room was so dark that I could hardly
see, and the heavy smoke from the open fire burned and
stung our eyes. On the floor sat a frowzy-looking
woman, blowing at the fire, and a yellow lama, his saucer
hat hidden under its waterproof covering — apparently
he was a traveler like ourselves.

"The frowzy lady smiled and motioned us to sit down
on a low couch beside the door. As we did so, I saw a
small face peering out of a big sheepskin coat and two
black eyes staring at us unblinkingly. It was a little
Mongol girl whose nap had been disturbed by so many

90 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

visitors. She was rather a pretty little thing and so
small — just a little older than my own baby in Peking
— that I wanted to play with her. She was shy at first,
but when I held out a picture advertisement from a
package of cigarettes she gradually edged nearer, en-
couraged by her mother. Soon she was leaning on my
knee. Then without taking her black eyes from my face,
she solemnly put one finger in her mouth and jerked it
out with a loud 'pop,' much to her mother's gratifica-
tion. But when she decided to crawl up into my lap, my
interest began to wane, for she exuded such a concen-
trated 'essence of Mongol' and rancid mutton fat that
I was almost suffocated.

"Our hostess was busy stirring a thick, white soup in
a huge caldron, and by the time the carts arrived every-
one was dipping in with their wooden bowls. We
begged to be excused, since we had already had some
experience with Mongol soup.

"The yurt really was not a bad place when we be-
came accustomed to the bitter smoke and the combina-
tion of native odors. There were two couches, about
six inches from the ground, covered with sheepskins and
furs. Opposite the door stood a chest — rather a nice
one — on top of which was a tiny god with a candle burn-
ing before it, and a photograph of the Hutukhtu."

We had dinner in the yurt, and the boys slept there
while we used our Mongol tent. There was no difficulty
in erecting it even in the wind and rain, but it would
have been impossible to have put up the American wall

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 91

tent. Even though it was the fifth of June, there was
a sharp frost during the night, and we were thankful
for our fur sleeping bags.

Always in Mongolia after a heavy rain the air is crys-
tal-clear, and we had a delightful morning beside the
river. Hundreds of demoiselle cranes were feeding in
the meadowlike valley bottom where the grass was as
green as emeralds. We saw two of the graceful birds
standing on a sand bar and, as we rode toward them,
they showed not the slightest sign of fear. When we
were not more than twenty feet away they walked slowly
about in a circle, and the lama discovered two spotted
brown eggs almost under his pony's feet. There was no
sign of a nest, but the eggs were perfectly protected by
their resemblance to the stones.

Our way led close along the Tola River, and just be-
fore tifBn we saw a line of camels coming diagonally
toward us from behind a distant hill. I wish you could
have seen that caravan in all its barbaric splendor as it
wound across the vivid green plains. Three lamas,
dressed in gorgeous yellow robes, and two, in flaming
red, rode ahead on ponies. Then neck and neck,
mounted on enormous camels, came four men in gowns
of rich maroon and a woman flashing with jewels and
silver. Behind them, nose to tail, was the long, brown-
line of laden beasts. It was like a painting of the Mid-
dle Ages — like a picture of the days of Kublai Khan,
when the Mongol court was the most splendid the world
has ever seen. My wife and I were fascinated, for this
was the Mongolia of our dreams. *)

92 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

But our second day was not destined to be one of un-
alloyed happiness, for just after luncheon we reached a
bad stretch of road alternating between jagged rocks
and deep mud holes. The white horse, which was so
quickly exhausted the day before, gave up absolutely
when its cart became badly mired. Just then a red
lama appeared with four led ponies and said that one of
his horses could extricate the cart. He hitched a tiny
brown animal between the shafts, we all put our shoul-
ders to the wheels, and in ten minutes the load was on
solid ground. We at once offered to trade horses, and
by giving a bonus of five dollars I became the possessor
of the brown pony.

But the story does not end there. Two months later
when we had returned to Urga a Mongol came to our
camp in great excitement and announced that we had
one of his horses. He said that five animals had been
stolen from him and that the little brown pony for which
I had traded with the lama was one of them. His proof
was incontrovertible and according to the law of the
country I was bound to give back the animal and accept
the loss. However, a half dozen hard-riding Mongol
soldiers at once took up the trail of the lama, and the
chances are that there will be one less thieving priest
before the incident is closed.

It is interesting to note how a similarity of conditions
in western America and in Mongolia has developed
exactly the same attitude of mutual protection in regard
to horses. In both countries horse-stealing is considered
to be one of the worst crimes. It is punishable by death

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 93

in Mongolia or, what is infinitely worse, by a life in one
of the prison coffins. Moreover, the spirit of mutual
assistance is carried further, and several times during
the summer when our ponies had strayed miles from the
tents they were brought in by passing Mongols, or we
were told where they could be found.

Our camp the second night was on a beautiful, grassy
plateau beside a tiny stream, a tributary of the river.
We put out a line of traps for small mammals, but in the
morning were disappointed to find only three meadow
mice (Microtus). There were no fresh signs of mar-
mots, hares, or other animals along the river, and I be-
gan to suspect what eventually proved to be true, viz.,
that the valley was a favorite winter camping ground
for Mongols, and that all the game had been killed or
driven far away. Indeed, we had hardly been beyond
sight of a yurt during the entire two days, and great
flocks of sheep and goats were feeding on every grassy
meadow.

But the Mongols considered cartridges too precious
to waste on birds and we saw many different species.
The demoiselle cranes were performing their mating
dances all about us, and while one was chasing a magpie
it made the most amusing spectacle, as it hopped and
flapped after the little black and white bird which kept
just out of reach.

Mongolian skylarks were continually jumping out of
the grass from almost under our horses' feet to soar
about our heads, flooding the air with song. Along the
sand banks of the river we saw many flocks of swan

94 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

geese {Cygnopsis cygnoides). They are splendid fel-
lows with a broad, brown band down the back of the
neck, and are especially interesting as being the ances-
tors of the Chinese domestic geese. They were not
afraid of horses, but left immediately if a man on foot
approached. I killed half a dozen by slipping off my
pony, when about two hundi^ed yards away, and walking
behind the horses while Yvette rode boldly toward the
flock, leading Kublai Khan. Twice the birds fell across
the river, and we had to swim for them. My pony took
to the water like a duck and when we had reached the
other bank would arch his neck as proudly as though he
had killed the bird himself. His keen interest in sport,
his gentleness, and his intelligence won my heart at once.
He would let me shoot from his back without the slight-
est fear, even though he had never been used as a hunting
pony by Prince Tze Tze from whom he had been pur-
chased.

In the ponds and among the long marsh grass we
found the ruddy sheldrake {Casarca casarca), and the
crested lapwing ( Vanellus vanelliis) . They were like
old friends, for we had met them first in far Yiin-nan
and on the Burma frontier during the winter of 1916-17
whence they had gone to escape the northern cold; now
they were on their summer breeding grounds. The shel-
drakes glowed like molten gold when the sun found them
in the grass, and we could not have killed the beautiful
birds even had we needed them for food. Moreover,
like the lapwings, they had a trusting simplicity, a way
of throwing themselves on one's mercy, which was in-

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 96

finitely appealing. We often hunted for the eggs of
both the sheldrakes and lapwings. They must have been
near by, we knew, for the old birds would fly about our
heads uttering agonizing calls, but we never found the
nests.

I killed four light-gray geese with yellow bills and
legs and narrow brown bars across the head, and a
broad brown stripe down the back of the neck. I could
only identify the species as the bar-headed goose of In-
dia {Eulabeia indica) , which I was not aware ever trav-
eled so far north to breed. Later I found my
identification to be correct, and that the bird is an occa-
sional visitor to Mongolia. We saw only one specimen
of the bean goose {Anser fdbalis), the common bird of
China, which I had expected would be there in thou-
sands. There were a few mallards, redheads, and shov-
eler ducks, and several bustards, besides half a dozen
species of plover and shore birds.

Except for these the trip would have been infinitely
monotonous, for we were bitterly disappointed in the
lack of animal life. Moreover, there was continual
trouble with the carts, and on the third day I had to buy
an extra horse. Although one can purchase a riding
pony at any yurt, cart animals are not easy to find, for
the Mongols use oxen or camels to draw most loads.
The one we obtained had not been in the shafts for more
than two years and was badly frightened when we
brought him near the cart. It was a liberal education
to see our Mongol handle that horse! He first put a
hobble on all four legs, then he swung a rope about the

S6 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

hind quarters, trussed him tightly, and swung him into
the shafts. When the pony was properly harnessed, he
fastened the bridle to the rear of the other cart and drove
slowly ahead. At first the horse tried to kick and
plunge, but the hobbles held him fast and in fifteen min-
utes he settled to the work. Then the Mongol removed
the hobbles from the hind legs, and later left the pony
entirely free. He walked beside the animal for a long
time, and did not attempt to drive him from the cart
for at least an hour.

Although Mongols seem unnecessarily rough and al-
most brutal, I do not believe that any people in the world
can handle horses more expertly. From earliest child-
hood their real home is the back of a pony. Every year,
in the spring, a children's race is held at Urga. Boys
and girls from four to six years old are tied on horses
and ride at full speed over a mile-long course. If a
child falls off it receives but scant sympathy and is
strapped on again more tightly than before. A Mon-
gol has no respect whatever for a man or woman who
cannot ride, and nothing will win his regard as rapidly
as expert horsemanship. Strangely enough the Mon-
gols seldom show affection for their ponies, nor do they
caress them in any way; consequently, the animals do
not enjoy being petted and are prone to kick and bite.
My pony, Kublai Khan, was an extraordinary exception
to this rule and was as affectionate and gentle as a kit-
ten— ^but there are few animals like Kublai Khan in
Mongolia!

The ponies are small, of course, but they are strong

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 97

almost beyond belief, and can stand punishment that
would kill an ordinary horse. The Mongols seldom
ride except at a trot or a full gallop, and forty to fifty
miles a day is not an unusual journey. Moreover, the
animals are not fed grain; they must forage on the plains
the year round. During the winter, when the grass is
dry and sparse, they have poor feeding, but neverthe-
less are able to withstand the extreme cold. They grow
a coat of hair five or six inches in length, and when
Kublai Khan arrived in Peking after his long journey
across the plains he looked more like a grizzly bear than
a horse. He had changed so completely from the sleek,
fine-limbed animal we had known in Mongolia that
my wife was almost certain he could not be the same
pony. He had to be taught to eat carrots, apples, and
other vegetables and would only sniff suspiciously at
sugar. But in a very short time he learned all the tastes
of his city-bred companions.

Horses are cheap in Mongolia, but not extraordinarily
so. In the spring a fair pony can be purchased for from
thirty to sixty dollars (silver) , and especially good ones
bring as much as one hundred and fifty dollars. In the
fall when the Mongols are confronted with a hard win-
ter, which naturally exacts a certain toll from any herd,
ponies sell for about two-thirds of their spring price.

In Urga we had been led to believe that the entire trip
to Sain Noin Khan's village could be done in eight days
and that game was plentiful along the trail. We had
already been on the road five days, making an average
of twenty-five miles at each stage, and the natives as-

98 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

sured us that it would require at least ten more days of
steady travel before we could possibly arrive at our des-
tination; if difficulties arose it might take even longer.
Moreover, we had seen only one hare and one marmot,
and our traps had yielded virtually nothing. It was
perfectly evident that the entire valley had been de-
nuded of animal life by the Mongols, and there was little
prospect that conditions would change as long as we re-
mained on such rich grazing grounds.

It was hard to turn back and count the time lost, but
it was certainly the wisest course for we knew that there
was good collecting on the plains south of Urga, al-
though the fauna would not be as varied as at the place
we had hoped to reach. The summer in Mongolia is so
short that every day must be made to count if results
which are worth the money invested are to be obtained.

Yvette and I were both very despondent that eve-
ning when we decided it was necessary to turn back. It
was one of those nights when I wished with all my heart
that we could sit in front of our own camp fire without
the thought of having to "make good" to any one but
ourselves. However, once the decision was made, we
tried to forget the past days and determined to make up
for lost time in the future.

CHAPTER VIII

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS

On Monday, June 16, we left Urga to go south along
the old caravan trail toward Kalgan. Only a few weeks
earlier we had skimmed over the rolling surface in
motor cars, crossing in one day then as many miles of
plains as our own carts could do in ten. But it had an-
other meaning to us now, and the first night as we sat
at dinner in front of the tent and watched the after-
glow fade from the sky behind the pine-crowned ridge
of the Bogdo-ol, we thanked God that for five long
months we could leave the twentieth century with its
roar and rush, and live as the Mongols live; we knew
that the days of discouragement had ended and that we
could learn the secrets of the desert life which are yielded
up to but a chosen few.

Within twenty-five miles of Urga we had seen a
dozen marmots and a species of gopher (Citellus) that
was new to us. The next afternoon at two o'clock we
climbed the last long slope from out the Tola River
drainage basin, and reached the plateau which stretches
in rolling waves of plain and desert to the frontier of
China six hundred miles away. Before us three pools
of water flashed like silver mirrors in the sunlight, and
beyond them, tucked away in a sheltered corner of the

100 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

hills, stood a little temple surrounded by a cluster of
gray- white yurts.

Our Mongol learned that the next water was on the
far side of a plain thirty-five miles in width, so we
camped beside the largest pond. It was a beautiful
spot with gently rolling hills on either side, and in front,
a level plain cut by the trail's white line.

As soon as the tents were up Yvette and I rode off,
accompanied by the lama, carrying a bag of traps.
Within three hundred yards of camp we found the first
marmot. When it had disappeared underground we
carefully buried a steel trap at the entrance of the hole
and anchored it securely to an iron tent peg. With
rocks and earth we plugged all the other openings, for
there are usually five or six tunnels to every burrow.
While the work was going on other marmots were
watching us curiously from half a dozen mounds, and
we set nine traps before it was time to return for dinner.

The two Chinese taxidermists had taken a hundred
wooden traps for smaller mammals, and before dark we
inspected the places they had found. Already one of
them held a gray meadow vole (Microtus), quite a dif-
ferent species from those which had been caught along
the Tola River, and Yvette discovered one of the larger
traps dragged halfway into a hole with a baby marmot
safely caught. He was only ten inches long and cov-
ered with soft yellow-white fur.

Shortly after daylight the next morning the lama
came to our tent to announce that there was a marmot
in one of the traps. The boy was as excited as a child

THE LURE OF THE PLAIN^, i fi;'; '.ICOV.

of ten and had been up at dawn. When we were dressed
we followed the Mongol to the first burrow where a fine
marmot was securely caught by the hind leg. A few
yards away we had another female, and the third trap
was pulled far into the hole. A huge male was at the
other end, but he had twisted his body halfway around
a curve in the tunnel and by pulling with all our strength
the Mongol and I could not move him a single inch.
Finally we gave up and had to dig him out. He had
given a wonderful exhibition of strength for so small an
animal.

It was especially gratifying to catch these marmots so
easily, for we had been told in Urga that the Mongols
could not trap them. I was at a loss to understand
why, for they are closely related to the "woodchucks"
of America with which every country boy is familiar.
Later I learned the reason for the failure of the natives.
In the Urga market we saw some double-spring traps
exactly like those of ours, but when I came to examine
them I found they had been made in Russia, and the
springs were so weak that they were almost useless.
These were the only steel traps which the Mongols had
ever seen.

The marmots (Marmota robusta) were supposed to
be responsible for the spread of the pneumonia plague
which swept into northern China from Manchuria a few
years ago; but I understand from physicians of the
Rockefeller Foundation in Peking, who especially
investigated the disease, that the animal's connection
with it is by no means satisfactorily determined.

.10ft; .;;;':?; ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

The inarmots hibernate during the winter, and retire
to their burrows early in October, not to emerge until
April. When they first come out in the spring their fur
is bright yellow, and the animals contrast beautifully
with the green grass. After the middle of June the
yellow fur begins to slip off in patches, leaving exposed
the new coat, which is exceedingly short and is mouse-
gray in color. Then, of course, the skins are useless for
commercial purposes. As the summer progresses the
fur grows until by September first it has formed a long,
soft coat of rich gray-brown which is of considerable
economic value. The skins are shipped to Europe and
America and during the past winter (1919-1920) were
especially popular as linings for winter coats.

We had an opportunity to see how quickly the de-
mand in the great cities reaches directly to the center of
production thousands of miles away. When we went to
Urga in May prime marmot skins were worth thirty
cents each to the Mongols. Early in October, when we
returned, the hunters were selling the same skins for
one dollar and twenty- five cents apiece.

The natives always shoot the animals. When a Mon-
gol has driven one into its burrow, he lies quietly beside
the hole waiting for the marmot to appear. It may be
twenty minutes or even an hour, but the Oriental pa-
tience takes little note of time. Finally a yellow head
emerges and a pair of shining eyes glance quickly about
in every direction. Of course, they see the Mongol but
he looks only like a mound of earth, and the marmot
raises itself a few inches higher. The hunter lies as

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 103

motionless as a log of wood until the animal is well out
of its burrow — ^then he shoots.

The Mongols take advantage of the marmot's curi-
osity in an amusing and even more effective way. With
a dogskin tied to his saddle the native rides over the
plain until he reaches a marmot colony. He hobbles his
pony at a distance of three or four hundred yards, gets
down on his hands and knees, and throws the dogskin
over his shoulders. He crawls slowly toward the nearest
animal, now and then stopping to bark and shake his
head. In an instant, the marmot is all attention. He
jumps up and down whistling and barking, but never
venturing far from the opening of his burrow.

As the pseudo-dog advances there seems imminent
danger that the fat little body will explode from curi-
osity and excitement. But suddenly the "dog" col-
lapses in the strangest way and the marmot raises on
the very tips of his toes to see what it is all about. Then
there is a roar, a flash of fire and another skin is added
to the millions which have already been sent to the sea-
coast from outer Mongolia.

Mr. Mamen often spoke of an extraordinary dance
which he had seen the marmots perform, and when Mr.
and Mrs. MacCallie returned to Kalgan they saw it also.
We were never fortunate enough to witness it. Mac
said that two marmots stood erect on their hind legs,
grasping each other with their front paws, and danced
slowly about exactly as though they were waltzing. He
agreed with Mamen that it was the most extraordinary
and amusing thing he had ever seen an animal do. I

104i ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

can well believe it, for the marmots have many curious
habits which would repay close study. The dance could
hardly be a mating performance since Mac saw it in
late May and by that time the young had already been
born.

One morning at the "Marmot Camp," as we named
the one where we first began real collecting, Yvette saw
six or seven young animals on top of a mound in the
green grass. We went there later with a gun and found
the little fellows playing like kittens, chasing each other
about and rolling over and over. It was hard to make
myself bring tragedy into their lives, but we needed
them for specimens. A group showing an entire mar-
mot family would be interesting for the Museum; espe-
cially so in view of their reported connection with the
pneumonic plague. We collected a dozen others before
the summer was over to show the complete transition
from the first yellow coat to the gray-brown of winter.

Like most rodents, the marmots grow rapidly and
have so many young in every litter that they will not
soon be exterminated in Mongolia unless the native
hunters obtain American steel traps. Even then it
would take some years to make a really alarming impres-
sion upon the millions which spread over all the plains
of northern Mongolia and Manchuria.

Since these marmots are a distinctly northern animal
they are a great help in determining the life zones of
this part of Asia. We found that their southern limit
is at Turin, one hundred and seventy-five miles from
Urga. A few scattered families live there, but the real

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 106

marmot country begins about twenty-five miles farther
north.

The first hunting camp was eighty miles south of
Urga, after we had passed a succession of low hills and
reached what, in prehistoric times, was probably a great
lake basin. When our tents were pitched beside the
well they seemed pitifully small in the vastness of the
plain. The land rolled in placid waves to the far hori-
zon on every hand. It was like a calm sea which is dis-
turbed only by the lazy progress of the ocean swell.
Two yurtSj like the sails of hull-down ships, showed
black against the sky-rim where it met the earth. The
plain itself seemed at first as flat as a table, for the
swells merged indistinguishably into a level whole. It
was only when approaching horsemen dipped for a little
out of sight and the depressions swallowed them up that
we realized the unevenness of the land.

Camp was hardly made before our Mongol neighbors
began to pay their formal calls. A picturesque fellow,
blazing with color, would dash up to our tent at a full
gallop, slide off and hobble his pony almost in a single
motion. With a "sai bind" of greeting he would squat
in the door, produce his bottle of snuff and offer us a
pinch. There was a quiet dignity about these plains
dwellers which was wonderfully appealing. They were
seldom unduly curious, and when we indicated that the
visit was at an end, they left at once.

Sometimes they brought bowls of curded milk, or
great lumps of cheese as presents, and in return we gave
cigarettes or now and then a cake of soap. Having been

106 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

told in Urga that soap was especially appreciated by the
Mongols, I had brought a supply of red, blue, and green
cakes which had a scent even more wonderful than the
color, I can't imagine why they like it, for it is care-
fully put away and never used.

Strangely enough, the Mongols have no word for
"thank you" other than ''sai" (good), but when they
wish to express approbation, and usually when saying
"good-by," they put up the thumb with the fingers
closed. In Yiin-nan and eastern Tibet we noted the
same custom among the aboriginal tribesmen. I won-
der if it is merely a coincidence that in the gladiatorial
contests of ancient Rome "thumbs up" meant mercy or
approval !

The Mongols told us that in the rolling ground to the
east of camp we could surely find antelope. The first
morning my wife and I went out alone. We trotted
steadily for an hour, making for the summit of a rise
seven or eight miles from camp. Yvette held the ponies,
while I sat down to sweep the country with my glasses.
Directly in front of us two small valleys converged into
a larger one, and almost immediately I discovered half
a dozen orange-yellow forms in its very bottom about
two miles away. They were antelope quietly feeding.
In a few moments I made out two more close together,
and then four off at the right. After my wife had found
them with her glasses we sat down to plan the stalk.

It was obvious that we should try to cross the two
small depressions which debouched into the main valley
and approach from behind the hill crest nearest to the

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 107

gazelles. We trotted slowly across the gully while the
antelope were in sight, and then swung around at full
gallop under the protection of the rising ground. We
came up just opposite to the herd and dismounted, but
were fully six hundred yards away. Suddenly one of
those impulses which the hunter never can explain sent
them off like streaks of yellow light, but they turned on
the opposite hillside, slowed down, and moved uncer-
tainly up the valley.

Much to our surprise four of the animals detached
themselves from the others and crossed the depression
in our direction. When we saw that they were really
coming we threw ourselves into the saddles and galloped
forward to cut them off. Instantly the antelope in-
creased their speed and literally flew up the hill slope.
I shouted to Yvette to watch the holes and shook the
reins over Kublai Khan's neck. Like a bullet he was
off. I could feel his great muscles flowing between my
knees but otherwise there seemed hardly a motion of
his body in the long, smooth run. Standing straight up
in the stirrups, I glanced back at my wife who was sit-
ting her chestnut stallion as lightly as a butterfly. Hat
gone, hair streaming, the thrill of it all showed in every
hne of her body. She was running a close second, almost
at my side. I saw a marmot hole flash by. A second
death trap showed ahead and I swung Kublai Khan to
the right. Another and another followed, but the pony
leaped them like a cat. The beat of the fresh, clean air ;
the rush of the splendid horse; the sight of the yellow
forms fleeing like wind-blown ribbons across our path —

108 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

all this set me mad with excitement and a wild exhilara-
tion. Suddenly I realized that I was yelling like an
Indian. Yvette, too, was screaming in sheer delight.

The antelope were two hundred yards away when I
tightened on the reins. Kublai Khan stiffened and
stopped in twenty yards. The first shot was low and to
the left, but it gave the range. At the second, the rear-
most animal stumbled, recovered itself, and ran wildly
about in a circle. I missed him twice, and he disap-
peared over a little hill. Leaping into the saddle, we
tore after the wounded animal. As we thundered over
the rise I heard my wife screaming frantically and saw
her pointing to the right where the antelope was lying
down. There was just one more shell in the gun and my
pockets were empty. I fired again at fifty yards and
the gazelle rolled over, dead.

Leading our horses, Yvette and I walked up to the
beautiful orange-yellow form lying in the fresh, green
grass. We both saw its horns in the same instant and
hugged each other in sheer dehght. At this time of the
year the bucks are seldom with the does and then only
in the largest herds. This one was in full pelage, spot-
less and with the hair unworn. Moreover, it had finer
horns than any other which we killed during the entire
trip.

Kublai Khan looked at the dead animal and arched
his neck, as much as to say, "Yes, I ran him down. He
had to quit when I really got started." My wife held
the pony's head, while I hoisted the antelope to his back
and strapped it behind the saddle. He watched the pro-

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 109

ceedings interestedly but without a tremor, and even
when I mounted, he paid not the slightest attention to
the head dangling on his flanks. Thereby he showed
that he was a very exceptional pony. In the weeks
which followed he proved it a hundred times, and I came
to love him as I have never loved another animal.

Yvette and I trotted slowly back to camp, thrilled
with the excitement of the wild ride. We began to real-
ize that we were lucky to have escaped without broken
necks. The race taught us never again to attempt to
guide our ponies away from the marmot holes which
spotted the plains, for the horses could see them better
than we could and all their lives had known that they
meant death.

That morning was our initiation into what is the finest
sport we have ever known. Hunting from a motor car
is undeniably exciting at first, but a real sportsman can
never care for it very long. The antelope does not have
a chance against gas and steel and a long-range rifle.
On horseback the conditions are reversed. An antelope
can run twice as fast as the best horse living. It can
see as far as a man with prism binoculars. All the odds
are in the animal's favor except two — its fatal desire to
run in a circle about the pursuer, and the use of a high-
power rifle. But even then an antelope three hundred
yards away, going at a speed of fifty miles an hour, is
not an easy target.

Of course, the majority of sportsmen will say that it
cannot be done with any certainty — ^until they go to
Mongolia and do it themselves! But, as I remarked in

110 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

a previous chapter, conditions on the plains are so un-
usual that shooting in other parts of the world is no cri-
terion. After one gets the range of an animal which,
like the antelope, has a smooth, even run, it is not so
difficult to hit as one might imagine. Practice is the
great essential. At the beginning I averaged one an-
telope to every eight cartridges, but later my score was
one to three.

We spent the afternoon at the new camp, setting
traps and preparing for the days to come — days in
which we knew, from long experience, we would have
every waking moment full of work. The nights were
shortening rapidly, and the sun did not dip below the
rim of our vast, flat world until half past seven. Then
there was an hour of delightful, lingering twilight, when
the stars began to show in tiny points of light ; by nine
o'clock the brooding silence of the Mongolian night had
settled over all the plain.

Daylight came at four o'clock, and before the sun
rose we had finished breakfast. Our traps held five
marmots and a beautiful golden-yellow polecat (Mus-
tela) . I have never seen such an incarnation of fury as
this animal presented. It might have been the original
of the Chinese dragon, except for its small size. Its
long, slender body twisted and turned with incredible
swiftness, every hair was bristling, and its snarling little
face emitted horrible squeaks and spitting squeals. It
seemed to be cursing us in every language of the pole-
cat tribe.

The fierce little beast was evidently bent upon a night

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 111

raid on a marmot family. We could imagine easily into
what terror the tiny demon would throw a nest of mar-
mots comfortably snuggled together in the bottom of
their burrow. Probably it would be most interested in
the babies, and undoubtedly would destroy every one
within a few moments. All the weasel family, to which
the polecat belongs, kill for the pure joy of killing, and
in China one such animal will entirely depopulate a hen-
roost in a single night.

At six o'clock Yvette and I left camp with the lama
and rode northeast. The plain swept away in long,
grassy billows, and at every rise I stopped for a mo-
ment to scan the horizon with my glasses. Within half
an hour we discovered a herd of antelope six or seven
hundred yards away. They saw us instantly and trotted
nervously about, staring in our direction.

Dropping behind the crest of the rise, I directed the
lama to ride toward them from behind while we swung
about to cut them off. He was hardly out of sight when
we heard a snort and a rush of pounding hoofs. With a
shout to Yvette I loosened the reins over Kublai Khan's
neck, and he shot forward like a yellow arrow. Yvette
was close beside me, leaning far over her pony's neck.
We headed diagonally toward the herd, and they grad-
ually swung toward us as though drawn by a powerful
magnet. On we went, down into a hollow and up again
on its slope. We could not spare the horses for the ante-
lope were already over the crest and lost to view, but
our horses took the hill at full speed, and from the sum-

11« ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

mit we could see the herd fairly on our course, three
hundred yards away.

Kublai Khan braced himself like a polo pony when
he felt the pressure of my knees, and I opened fire al-
most under his nose. At the crack of the rifle there was
a spurt of brown dust near the leading animal. "High
and to the left," shouted Yvette, and I held a little
lower for the second trial. The antelope dropped like a
piece of white paper, shot through the neck. I paced the
distance and found it to be three hundred and sixty-
seven yards. It seemed a very long shot then, but later
I found that almost none of my antelope were killed at
less than three hundred yards.

As I came up to Kublai Khan with the dead animal, I
accidentally struck him on the flank with my rifle in
such a way that he was badly frightened. He galloped
off, and Yvette had a hard chase before he finally al-
lowed her to catch him. Had I been alone I should
probably have had a long walk to camp.

It taught us never to hunt without a companion, if it
could possibly be avoided. If your horse runs away, you
may be left many miles from water, with rather serious
consequences. I think there is nothing which makes me
feel more helpless than to be alone on the plains without
a horse. Foi miles and miles there is only the rolling
grassland or the wide sweep of desert, with never a
house or tree to break the low horizon. It seems so
futile to walk, your own legs carry you so slowly and
such a pitifully short distance, in these vast spaces.

To be left alone in a small boat on the open sea is

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 113

exactly similar. You feel so very, very small and you
realize then what an insignificant part of nature you
really are. I have felt it, too, amid vast mountains when
I have been toiling up a peak which stretched thousands
of feet above me with others rearing tljeir majestic
forms on every side. Then, nature seems almost alive
and full of menace; something to be fought and con-
quered by brain and will.

Early in our work upon the plains we learned how
easy it is to lose one's way. The vast sea of land seems
absolutely flat, but in reality it is a gently rolling surface
full of slopes and hollows, every one of which looks ex-
actly like the others. But after a time we developed a
land sense. The Mongols all have it to an extraordinary
degree. We could drop an antelope on the plain and
leave it for an hour or more. With a quick glance about
our lama would fix the place in his mind, and dash off
on a chase which might carry us back and forth toward
every point of the compass. When it was time to re-
turn, he would head his pony unerringly for that single
spot on the plain and take us back as straight as the
flight of an arrow.

At first it gave him unceasing enjoyment when we
became completely lost, but in a very short time we
learned to note the position of the sun, the character of
the ground, and the direction of the wind. Then we
began to have more confidence in ourselves. But only
by years of training can one hope even to approximate
the Mongols. They have been born and reared upon
the plains, and have the inheritance of unknown genera-

114 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

tions whose very life depended upon their ability to come
and go at will. To them, the hills, the sun, the grass,
the sand — all have become the street signs of the desert.

In the afternoon of our second day I remained at the
tents to measure specimens, while Yvette and the lama
rode out toward the scene of our morning hunt to locate
an antelope which one of our Mongol neighbors had re-
ported dead not far away. At six o'clock they came gal-
loping back with the news that there were two gazelles
within three miles of camp. I saddled Kublai Khan and
left with them at once. Twenty minutes of steady trot-
ting brought us to the summit of a slope, where we could
see the animals quietly feeding not five hundred yards
away.

It was just possible to stalk them for a long-range
shot, and slipping off my pony, I flattened out upon
the ground. On hands and knees, and sometimes at full
length, I wormed my way through the grass for one
hundred yards. The cover ended there and I must shoot
or come into full view of the gazelles. They were so far
away that the front sight entirely covered the animals,
and to increase the difficulty, both were walking slowly.
The first bullet struck low and to the right, but the
antelope only jumped and stared fixedly in my direc-
tion ; at the second shot one went down. The other ani-
mal dashed away like a flash of lightning, and although
I sent a bullet after its white rump-patch, the shot was
hopeless.

The antelope I had knocked over got to its feet and
tried desperately to get away, but the lama leaped on

THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 115

his pony and caught it by one hind leg. My automatic
pistol was not in working order, and it was necessary to
knife the poor beast — a job which I hate like poison.
The lama walked away a dozen yards and covered his
face with the sleeve of his gown. It is against the laws
of the Buddhist religion to take the life of any animal or
even to see it done, although there are no restrictions as
to eating flesh.

With a blanket the Mongol made a seat for himself
on his pony's haunches, and threw the antelope across
his saddle ; then we trotted back to camp into the painted
western sky, with the cool night air bringing to us the
scent of newborn grass. We would not have exchanged
our lot that night with any one on earth.

CHAPTER IX

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN

After ten days we left the "Antelope Camp" to visit
the Turin plain where we had seen much game on the
way to Urga. One by one our Mongol neighbors rode
up to say "farewell," and each to present us with a silk
scarf as a token of friendship and good will. We re-
ceived an invitation to stop for tea at the yurt of an old
man who had manifested an especial interest in us, but
it was a very dirty yurt, and the preparations for tea
were so uninviting that we managed to exit gi-acefully
before it was finally served.

Yvette photographed the entire family including half
a dozen dogs, a calf, and two babies, much to their en-
jojrment. When we rode oJ0F, our hands were heaped
with cheese and slabs of mutton which were discarded
as soon as we had dropped behind a slope. Mongol hos-
pitality is whole-souled and generously given, but one
must be very hungry to enjoy their food.

A day and a half of traveling was uneventful, for

herds of sheep and horses indicated the presence of yurts

among the hills. Game will seldom remain where there

are Mongols. Although it was the first of July, we

found a heavy coating of ice on the lower sides of a deep

well. The water was about fifteen feet below the level

ne

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■ ml ^

^^■|i^;^^9|HK^

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HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 117

of the plain, and the ice would probably remain all sum-
mer. Moreover, it is said that the wells never freeze
even during the coldest winter.

The changes of temperature were more rapid than in
any other country in which I have ever hunted. It was
hot during the day — about 85 "" Fahrenheit — but the in-
stant the sun disappeared we needed coats, and otir fur
sleeping bags were always acceptable at night.

We were one hundred and fifty miles from Urga and
were still going slowly south, when we had our next real
hunting camp. Great bands of antelope were working
northward from the Gobi Desert to the better grazing
on the grass-covered Turin plain. We encountered the
main herd one evening about six o'clock, and it was a
sight which made us gasp for breath. We were shifting
camp, and my wife and I were trotting along parallel
to the carts which moved slowly over the trail a mile
away. We had had a delightful, as well as a profitable,
day. Yvette had been busy with her camera, while I
picked up an antelope, a bustard, three hares, and half
a dozen marmots. We were loafing in our saddles, when
suddenly we caught sight of the cook standing on his
cart frantically signaling us to come.

In ten seconds our ponies were flying toward the cara-
van, while we mentally reviewed every accident which
possibly could have happened to the boys. Lii met us
twenty yards from the trail, trembling with excitement
and totally incoherent. He could only point to the
south and stammer, "Too many antelope. Over there.
Too many, too many."

118 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

I slipped off Kublai Khan's back and put up the
glasses. Certainly there were animals, but I thought
they must be sheep or ponies. Hundreds were in sight,
feeding in one vast herd and in many smaller groups.
Then I remembered that the nearest well was twenty
miles away ; therefore they could not be horses. I looked
again and knew they must be antelope — not in hun-
dreds, but in thousands.

Mr. Larsen in Urga had told us of herds like this, but
we had never hoped to see one. Yet there before us,
as far as the eye could reach, was a yellow mass of mov-
ing forms. In a moment Yvette and I had left the
carts. There was no possibility of concealment, and our
only chance was to run the herd. When we were per-
haps half a mile away the nearest animals threw up their
heads and began to stamp and run about, only to stop
again and stare at us. We kept on very slowly, edging
nearer every moment. Suddenly they decided that we
were really dangerous, and the herd strung out like a
regiment of yellow-coated soldiers.

Kublai Khan had seen the antelope almost as soon as
we left the carts, and although he had already traveled
forty miles that day, was nervously champing the bit
with head up and ears erect. When at last I gave him the
word, he gathered himself for one terrific spring; down
went his head and he dashed forward with every ounce
of strength behind his flying legs. His run was the
long, smooth stride of a thoroughbred, and it sent the
blood surging through my veins in a wild thrill of ex-
hilaration. Once only I glanced back at Yvette. She

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 119

was almost at my side. Her hair had loosened and was
flying back like a veil behind her head. Tense with ex-
citement, eyes shining, she was heedless of everything
save those skimming yellow forms before us. It was
useless to look for holes ; ere I had seen one we were over
or around it. With head low down and muzzle out, my
pony needed not the slightest touch to guide him. He
knew where we were going and the part he had to
play.

More than a thousand antelope were running diag-
onally across our course. It was a sight to stir the gods ;
a thing to give one's life to see. But when we were
almost near enough to shoot, the herd suddenly swerved
heading directly away from us. In an instant we were
enveloped in a whirling cloud of dust through which the
flying animals were dimly visible like phantom figures.
Kublai Khan was choked, and his hot breath rasped
sharply through his nostrils, but he plunged on and on
into that yellow cloud. Standing in my stirrups, I fired
six times at the wraithlike forms ahead as fast as I could
work the lever of my rifle. Of course, it was useless, but
just the same I had to shoot.

In about a mile the great herd slowed down and
stopped. We could see hundreds of animals on every
side, in groups of fifty or one hundred. Probably two
thousand antelope were in sight at once and many more
were beyond the sky rim to the west. We gave the
ponies ten minutes' rest, and had another run as unsuc-
cessful as the first. Then a third and fourth. The ante-
lope, for some strange reason, would not cross our path.

120 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

but always turned straight away before we were near
enough to shoot.

After an hour we returned to the carts — for Yvette
was exhausted from excitement — and the lama took her
place. We left the great herd and turned southward,
parallel to the road. A mile away we found more ante-
lope; at least a thousand were scattered about feeding
quietly like those we had driven north. It seemed as
though all the gazelles in Mongolia had concentrated on
those few miles of plain.

The ponies were so exhausted that we decided to try
a drive and leave the main herd in peace. When we
were concealed from view in the bottom of a land swell
I slipped off and hobbled Kublai Khan. The poor fel-
low was so tired he could only stand with drooping head,
even though there was rich grass beneath his feet. I
sent the lama in a long circle to get behind the herd,
while I crawled a few hundred yards away and snuggled
out of sight into an old wolf den.

I watched the antelope for fifteen minutes through
my binoculars. They were feeding in a vast semicircle,
entirely unconscious of my presence. Suddenly every
head went up ; they stared fixedly toward the west for
a moment, and were off like the wind. About five hun-
dred drew together in a compact mass, but a dozen
smaller herds scattered wildly, running in every direc-
tion except toward me. They had seen the lama before
he had succeeded in completely encircling them, and the
drive was ruined.

The Mongols kill great numbers of antelope in just

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 1«1

this way. When a herd has been located, a line of men
will conceal themselves at distances of two or three hun-
dred yards, while as many more get behind the animals
and drive them toward the waiting hunters. Sometimes
the gazelles almost step on the natives and become so
frightened that they run the gantlet of the entire firing
line.

I did not have the heart to race again with our ex-
hausted ponies, and we turned back toward the carts
which were out of sight. Scores of antelope, singly or
in pairs, were visible on the sky line and as we rode to
the summit of a little rise a herd of fifty appeared al-
most below us. We paid no attention to them; but sud-
denly my pony stopped with ears erect. He looked back
at me, as much as to say, "Don't you see those ante-
lope?" and began gently pulling at the reins. I could
feel him tremble with eagerness and excitement. "Well,
old chap," I said, "if you are as keen as all that, let's
give them a run."

With a magnificent burst of speed Kublai Khan
launched himself toward the fleeing animals. They
circled beautifully, straight into the eye of the sun, which
lay like a great red ball upon the surface of the plain.
We were still three hundred yards away and gaining
rapidly, but I had to shoot; in a moment I would be
blinded by the sun. As the flame leaped from my rifle,
we heard the dull thud of a bullet on flesh ; at the second
shot, another; and then a third. "Sang a' (three),
yelled the lama, and dashed forward, wild with excite-
ment.

122 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

The three gazelles lay almost the same distance apart,
each one shot through the body. It was interesting evi-
dence that the actions of working the lever on my rifle
and aiming, and the speed of the antelope, varied only
by a fraction of a second. In this case, brain and eye
and hand had functioned perfectly. Needless to say, I
do not always shoot like that.

Two of the antelope were yearling bucks, and one was
a large doe. The lama took the female on his pony,
and I strapped the other two on Kublai Khan. When
I mounted, he was carrying a weight of two hundred
and eighty-five pounds, yet he kept his steady "home-
ward trot" without a break until we reached the carts
six miles away.

Yvette had been afraid that we would miss the well
in the gathering darkness, and had made a "dry camp"
beside the road. We had only a little water for our-
selves ; but my pony's nose was full of dust, and I knew
how parched his throat must be, so I divided my sup-
ply with him. The poor animal was so frightened by
the dish, that he would only snort and back away; even
when I wet his nose with some of the precious fluid, he
would not drink.

The success of our work upon the plains depended
largely upon Kublai Khan. He was only a Mongol
pony but he was just as great, in his own way, as was
the Tartar emperor whose name he bore. Whatever
it was I asked him to do, he gave his very best. Can
you wonder that I loved him?

Within a fortnight from the time I bought him, he

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN US

became a perfect hunting pony. The secret of it all
was that he liked the game as well as I. Traveling with
the carts bored him exceedingly but the instant game
appeared he was all excitement. Often he saw an-
telope before we did. We might be trotting slowly
over the plains, when suddenly he would jerk his head
erect and begin to pull gently at the reins; when I
reached down to take my rifle from the holster, he
would tremble with eagerness to be off.

In hunting antelope you should ride slowly toward
the animals, drawing nearer gradually. They are so
accustomed to see Mongols that they will not begin
to run in earnest until a man is five or six hundred
yards away, but when they are really off, a fast pony
is the great essential. The time to stop is just before
the animals cross your path, and then you must stop
quickly. Kublai Khan learned the trick immediately.
As soon as he felt the pressure of my knees, and the
slightest pull upon the reins, his whole body stiffened
and he braced himself like a polo pony. It made not
the slightest difference to him whether I shot from
his back or directly under his nose; he stood quietly
watching the running antelope. When we were rid-
ing across the plains if a bird ran along the ground or
a hare jumped out of the grass, he was after it like a
dog. Often I would find myself flying toward an ani-
mal which I had never seen.

Yvette's pony was useless for hunting antelope. In-
stead of heading diagonally toward the gazelles he
would always attempt to follow the herd. When it

IM ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

was time to stop I would have to put all my strength
upon the reins and the horse would come into a slow
gallop and then a trot. Seconds of valuable time would
be wasted before I could begin to shoot. I tried half
a dozen other ponies, but they were all as bad. They
did not have the intelligence or the love of hunting
which made Kublai Khan so valuable.

The morning after encountering the great herd, we
camped at a well thirty miles north of the Turin mon-
astery. Three or four yurts were scattered about, and
a caravan of two hundred and fifty camels was rest-
ing in a little hollow. From the door of our tent we
could see the blue summit of the Turin "mountain,"
and have in the foreground a perpetual moving picture
of camels, horses, sheep, goats, and cattle seeking water.
All day long hundreds of animals crowded about the
well, while one of two Mongols filled the troughs by
means of wooden buckets.

The life about the wells is always interesting, for they
are points of concentration for all wanderers on the
plains. Just as we pitch our tents and make ourselves
at home, so great caravans arrive with tired, laden
camels. The huge brutes kneel, while their packs are
being removed, and then stand in a long line, patiently
waiting until their turn comes to drink. Groups of ten
or twelve crowd about the trough; then, majestically
swinging their padded feet, they move slowly to one
side, kneel upon the ground, and sleepily chew their
cuds until all the herd has joined them. Sometimes the
caravans wait for several days to rest their animals and

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 126

let them feed; sometimes they vanish in the first gray
light of dawn.

On the Turin plain we had a delightful glimpse of
antelope babyhood. The great herds which we had
found were largely composed of does just ready to drop
their young, and after a few days they scattered widely
into groups of from five to twenty.

We found the first baby antelope on June 27.
We had seen half a. dozen females circling restlessly
about, and suspected that their fawns could not be far
away. Sure enough, our Mongol discovered one of the
little fellows in the flattest part of the flat plain. It
was lying motionless with its neck stretched out, just
where its mother had told it to remain when she saw us
riding toward her.

Yvette called to me, "Oh, please, please catch it. We
can raise it on milk and it will make such an adorable
pet."

"Oh, yes," I said, "let's do. I'll get it for you. You
can put it in your hat till we go back to camp."

In blissful ignorance I dismounted and slowly went
toward the little animal. There was not the slightest
motion until I tossed my outspread shooting coat.
Then I saw a flash of brown, a bobbing white rump-
patch, and a tiny thing, no larger than a rabbit, speed-
ing over the plain. The baby was somewhat "wab-
bly," to be sure, for this was probably the first time
it had ever tried its slender legs, but after a few hun-
dred yards it ran as steadily as its mother.

I was so surprised that for a moment I simply stared.

ne ACROSS mongolian plains

Then I leaped into the saddle and Kublai Khan rushed
after the diminutive brown fawn. It was a good half
mile before we had the little chap under the pony's
nose but the race was by no means ended. Mewing
with fright, it swerved sharply to the left and ere we
could swing about, it had gained a hundred yards.
Again and again we were almost on it, but every time
it dodged and got away. After half an hour my pony
was gasping for breath, and I changed to Yvette's
chestnut stallion. The Mongol joined me and we had
another run, but we might have been pursuing a streak
of shifting sunlight. Finally we had to give it up and
watch the tiny thing bob away toward its mother, who
was circling about in the distance.

There were half a dozen other fawns upon the plain,
but they all treated us alike and my wife's hat was
empty when we returned to camp. These antelope
probably had been born not more than two or three
days before we found them. Later, after a chase of
more than a mile, we caught one which was only a few
hours old. Had it not injured itself when dodging be-
tween my pony's legs we could never have secured it
at all.

Thus, nature, in the great scheme of life, has pro-
vided for her antelope children by blessing them with
undreamed-of speed and only during the first days of
babyhood could a wolf catch them on the open plain.
When they are from two to three weeks old they run
with the females in herds of six or eight, and you cannot
imagine what a pretty sight it is to see the little fellows

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 127

skimming like tiny, brown chickens beside their moth-
ers. There is another wonderful provision for their
life upon the desert. The digestive fluids of the stom-
ach act upon the starch in the vegetation which they
eat so that it forms sufficient water for their needs.
Therefore, some species never drink.

The antelope choose a flat plain on which to give birth
to their young in order to be well away from the wolves
which are their greatest enemy; and the fawns are
taught to lie absolutely motionless upon the ground
until they know that they have been discovered. Ap-
parently they are all born during the last days of June
and in the first week of July. The great herds which
we encountered were probably moving northward both
to obtain better grazing and to drop their young on
the Turin plain. During this period the old bucks go
off singly into the rolling ground, and the herds are
composed only of does and yearling males. It was al-
ways possible to tell at once if an antelope had a fawn
upon the plain, for she would run in a wide circle around
the spot and refuse to be driven away.

We encountered only two species of antelope between
Kalgan and Urga. The one of which I have been writ-
ing, and with which we became best acquainted, was the
Mongolian gazelle {Gazella gutturosa). The other
was the goitered gazelle (Gazella subgutturosa) . In
the western Gobi, the Prjevalski gazelle [Gazella
prjevalski) is more abundant than the other species,
but it never reaches the region which we visited.

The goitered antelope is seldom found on the rolling

128 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

meadowlands between Kalgan and Panj-kiang on the
south, or between Turin and Urga on the north, ac-
cording to our observations ; they keep almost entirely
to the Gobi Desert between Panj-kiang and Turin, and
we often saw them among the "nigger heads" or tus-
socks in the most arid parts. The Mongolian gazelle,
on the other hand, is most abundant in the grasslands
both north and south of the Gobi, but nevertheless has
a continuous distribution across the plateau between
Kalgan and Urga.

On our northward trip in May, when we took motion
pictures of the antelope on the Panj-kiang plain, both,
species were present, but the goitered gazelle far out-
numbered the others — which is unusual in that locality.
It could always be distinguished from the Mongolian
gazelle because of its smaller size, darker coloring, and
the long tail which it carries straight up in the air at
right angles to the back; the Mongolian antelope has
an exceedingly short tail. The horns of both species
differ considerably in shape and can easily be distin-
guished.

During the winter these antelope develop a coat of
very long, soft hair which is light brown-gray in color
strongly tinged with rufous on the head and face. Its
summer pelage is a beautiful orange-fawn. The win-
ter coat is shed during May, and the animals lose their
short summer hair in late August and early September.

Both species have a greatly enlarged larynx from
which the goitered gazelle derives its name. What pur-
pose this extraordinary character serves the animal, I

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 129

am at a loss to know. Certainly it is not to give them
an exceptional "voice"; for, when wounded, I have
heard them make only a deep-toned roar which was by
no means loud. Specimens of the larynx which we
preserved in formalin are now being prepared for
anatomical study.

Although the two species inhabit the same locality,
they keep well by themselves and only once, on the
Panj-kiang plain, did we see them running together in
the same herd ; then it was probably because they were
frightened by the car. I doubt if they ever interbreed
except in rare instances.

The fact that these animals can develop such an ex-
traordinary speed was a great surprise to me, as un-
doubtedly it will be to most naturalists. Had we not
been able to determine it accurately by means of the
speedometers on our cars, I should never have dared
state that they could reach fifty-five or sixty miles an
hour. It must be remembered that the animals can
continue at such a high speed only for a short distance
— perhaps half a mile — and will never exert themselves
to the utmost unless they are thoroughly frightened.
They would run just fast enough to keep well away
from the cars or our horses, and it was only when we
began to shoot that they showed what they were capable
of doing. When the bullets began to scatter about them
they would seem to flatten several inches and run at
such a terrific speed that their legs appeared only as a
blur.

Of course, they have developed their fleetness as a

130 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

protection from enemies. Their greatest menace is the
wolves, but since we demonstrated that these animals
cannot travel faster than about thirty miles an hour,
the antelope are perfectly safe unless they happen to
be caught off their guard. To prevent just this, the
gazelles usually keep well out on the open plains and
avoid rocks or abrupt hills which would furnish cover
for a wolf. Of course, they often go into the rolling
ground, but it is usually where the slopes are gradual
and where they have sufficient space in which to pro-
tect themselves.

The gazelles have a perfectly smooth, even run when
going at full speed. I have often seen them bound
along when not particularly frightened, but never when
they are really trying to get away in the shortest pos-
sible time. The front limbs, as in the case of a deer,
act largely as supports and the real motive power
comes from the hind legs. If an antelope has only a
front leg broken no living horse can catch it, but with
a shattered hind limb my pony could run it down. I
have already related (see page 49) how, in a car, we
pursued an antelope with both front legs broken below
the knee; even then, it reached a speed of fifteen miles
an hour. The Mongolian plains are firm and hard
with no bushes or other obstructions and, consequently,
are especially favorable for rapid travel.

The cheetah, or hunting leopard of Africa, has the
reputation of being able to reach a greater speed, for
a short dash, than any other animal in that country,
and I have often wondered how it would fare in a race

HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAIN 131

with a Mongolian gazelle. Unfortunately, conditions
in Africa are not favorable for the use of automobiles
in hunting, and no actual facts as to the speed of the
cheetah are available.

At this camp, and during the journey back to Urga,
we had many glorious hunts. Each one held its own
individual fascination, for no two were just alike; and
every day we learned something new about the life his-
tory of the Mongolian antelope. We needed speci-
mens for a group in the new Hall of Asiatic Life in the
American Museum of Natural History, as well as a
series representing all ages of both males and females
for scientific study. When we returned to Urga we
had them all.

The hunting of large game was only one aspect of
our work. We usually returned to camp about two
o'clock in the afternoon. As soon as tiffin had been
eaten my wife worked at her photography, while I bus-
ied myself over the almost innumerable details of the
preparation and cataloguing of our specimens. About
six o'clock, accompanied by the two Chinese taxi-
dermists carrying bags of traps, we would leave the
tents. Sometimes we would walk several miles, mean-
while carefully scrutinizing the ground for holes or
traces of mammal workings, and set eighty or one hun-
dred traps. We might find a colony of meadow voles
(Microtus) where dozens of "runways" betrayed their
presence, or discover the burrows of the desert hamster
(Cricetuliis) . These little fellows, not larger than a

1S2 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

house mouse, have their tiny feet enveloped in soft fur,
like the slippers of an Eskimo baby.

As we walked back to camp in the late afternoon,
we often saw a kangaroo rat {Alactaga mongolica?)
jumping across the plain, and when we had driven it
into a hole, we could be sure to catch it in a trap the
following morning. They are gentle little creatures,
with huge, round eyes, long, delicate ears, and tails
tufted at the end like the feathers on an arrow's shaft.
The name expresses exactly what they are like — di-
minutive kangaroos — ^but, of course, they are rodents
and not marsupials. During the glacial period of the
early Pleistocene, about one hundred thousand years
ago, we know from fossil remains that there were great
invasions into Europe of most of these types of tiny
mammals, which we were catching during this delightful
summer on the Mongolian plains.

After two months we regretfully turned back toward
Urga. Our summer was to be divided between the
plains on the south and the forests to the north of the
sacred city, and the first half of the work had been
completed. The results had been very satisfactory, and
our boxes contained five hundred specimens; but our
hearts were sad. The wide sweep of the limitless,
grassy sea, the glorious morning rides, and the magic
of the starlit nights had filled our blood. Even the
lure of the unknown forests could not make us glad
to go, for the plains had claimed us as their own.

CHAPTER X

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY

Late on a July afternoon my wife and I stood dis-
consolately in the middle of the road on the outskirts
of Urga. We had halted because the road had ended
abruptly in a muddy river. Moreover, the river was
where it had no right to be, for we had traveled that
road before and had found only a tiny trickle across its
dusty surface. We were disconsolate because we
wished to camp that night in Urga, and there were
abundant signs that it could not be done.

At least the Mongols thought so, and we had learned
that what a Mongol does not do had best "give us
pause." They had accepted the river with Oriental
philosophy and had made their camps accordingly. Al-
ready a score of tents dotted the hillside, and argul
fires were smoking in the doorways. Hundreds of carts
were drawn up in an orderly array while a regiment
of oxen wandered about the hillside or sleepily chewed
their cuds beside the loads. In a few hours or days or
weeks the river would disappear, and then they would
go on to Urga. Meanwhile, why worry?

Two adventurous spirits, with a hundred camels, tried
to cross. We watched the huge beasts step majes-
tically into the water, only to huddle together in a yel-

133

1S4 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

low-brown mass when they reached midstream. All
their dignity fled, and they became merely frightened
mountains of flesh amid a chaos of writhing necks and
wildly switching tails.

But stranger still was a motor car standing on a
partly submerged island between two branches of the
torrent. We learned later that its owners had suc-
cessfully navigated the first stream and entered the sec-
ond. A flooded carburetor had resulted, and ere the
car was again in running order, the water had risen
sufficiently to maroon them on the island.

My wife and I both lack the philosophical nature
of the Oriental, and it was a sore trial to camp within
rifle shot of Urga. But we did not dare leave our
carts, loaded with precious specimens, to the care of
servants and the curiosity of an ever increasing horde
of Mongols.

For a well-nigh rainless month we had been hunting
upon the plains, while only one hundred and fifty miles
away Urga had had an almost daily deluge. In mid-
simruner heavy rain-clouds roll southward to burst
against "God's Mountain," which rears its green-clad
summits five thousand feet above the valley.' Then it
is only a matter of hours before every streamlet be-
comes a swollen torrent. But they subside as quickly
as they rise, and the particular river which barred our
road had lost its menace before the sun had risen in a
cloudless morning sky. All the valley seemed in mo-
tion. We joined the motley throng of camels, carts,
and horsemen; and even the motor car coughed and

X

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 135

wheezed its way to Urga under the stimulus of two
bearded Russians.

We made our camp on a beautiful bit of lawn within
a few hundred yards of one of the most interesting
of all the Urga temples. It is known to the foreigners
in the city as "God's Brother's House," for it was the
residence of the Hutukhtu's late brother. The temple
presents a bewildering collection of carved gables and
gayly painted pavilions flaunting almost every color of
the rainbow. Yvette and I were consumed with curi-
osity to see what was contained within the high pali-
sades which surround the buildings. We knew it would
be impossible to obtain permission for her to go inside,
and one evening as we were walking along the walls we
glanced through the open gate. No one was in sight
and from somewhere in the far interior we heard the
moaning chant of many voices. Evidently the lamas
were at their evening prayers.

We stepped inside the door intending only to take
a rapid look. The entire court was deserted, so we
slipped through the second gate and stood just at the
entrance of the main temple, the "holy of holies." In
the half darkness we could see the tiny points of yel-
low light where candles burned before the altar. On
either side was a double row of kneeling lamas, their
wailing chant broken by the clash of cymbals and the
boom of drums.

Beside the temple were a hideous foreign house and
an enormous yurt — evidently the former residences of
"God's Brother"; in the corners of the compound were

136 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

ornamental pavilions painted green and red. Except
for these, the court was empty.

Suddenly there was a stir among the lamas, and we
dashed away like frightened rabbits, dodging behind
the gateposts until we were safe outside. It was not
until some days later that we learned what a really
dangerous thing it was to do, for the temple is one of
the holiest in Urga, and in it women are never allowed.
Had a Mongol seen us, our camp would have been
stormed by a mob of frenzied lamas.

A lew days later we had an experience which dem-
onstrates how quickly trouble can arise where religious
superstitions are involved. My wife and I had put
the motion picture camera in one of the carts and, with
our Mongol driving, went to the summit of the hill
above the Lama City to film a panoramic view of Urga.
We, ourselves, were on horseback. After getting the
pictures, we drove down the main street of the city
and stopped before the largest temple, which I had
photographed several times before.

As soon as the motion picture machine was in posi-
tion, about five hundred lamas gathered about us. It
was a good-natured crowd, however, and we had almost
finished work, when a "black Mongol" (i.e., one with
a queue, not a lama) pushed his way among the priests
and began to harangue them violently. In a few mo-
ments he boldly grasped me by the arm. Fearing that
trouble might arise, I smiled and said, in Chinese,
that we were going away. The Mongol began to ges-
ticulate wildly and attempted to pull me with him far-

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 137

ther into the crowd of lamas, who also were becoming
excited. I was being separated from Yvette, and real-
izing that it would be dangerous to get far away from
her, I suddenly wrenched my arm free and threw the
Mongol to the ground ; then I rushed through the line
of lamas surrounding Yvette, and we backed up against
the cart.

I had an automatic pistol in my pocket, but it would
have been suicide to shoot except as a last resort. When
a Mongol "starts anything" he is sure to finish it; he is
not like a Chinese, who will usually run at the first
shot. We stood for at least three minutes with that
wall of scowling brutes ten feet away. They were un-
decided what to do and were only waiting for a leader
to close in. One huge beast over six feet tall was just
in front of me, and as I stood with my fingers crooked
about the trigger of the automatic in my pocket, I
thought, "If you start, I'm going to nail you any-
way.'*

Just at this moment of indecision our Mongol leaped
on my wife's pony, shouted that he was going to Duke
Loobitsan Yangsen, an influential friend of ours, and
dashed away. Instantly attention turned from us to
him. Fifty men were on horseback in a second, fly-
ing after him at full speed. I climbed into the cart,
shouting to Yvette to jump on Kublai Khan and run ;
but she would not leave me. At full speed we dashed
down the hill, the plunging horses scattering lamas right
and left. Our young Mongol had saved us from a sit-
uation which momentarily might have become critical.

138 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

At the entrance to the main street of Urga below
the Lama City I saw the black Mongol who had started
all the trouble. I jumped to the ground, seized him
by the collar and one leg, and attempted to throw him
into the cart for I had a little matter to settle with
him which could best be done to my satisfaction where
we were without spectators.

At the same instant a burly policeman, wearing a
saber fully five feet long, seized my horse by the bridle.
At the black Mongol's instigation (who, I discovered,
was himself a policeman) he had been waiting to arrest
us when we came into the city. Since it was impos-
sible to learn what had caused the trouble, Yvette rode
to Andersen, Meyer's compound to bring back Mr.
Olufsen and his interpreter. She found the whole
courtyard swarming with excited Mongol soldiers. A
few moments later Olufsen arrived, and we were al-
lowed to return to his house on parole. Then he vis-
ited the Foreign Minister, who telephoned the police
that we were not to be molested further.

We could never satisfactorily determine what it was
all about for every one had a different story. The
most plausible explanation was as follows. Russians
had been rather persona non grata in Urga since the
collapse of the empire, and the Mongols were ready
to annoy them whenever it was possible to do so and
"get away with it." All foreigners are supposed to be
Russians by the average native and, when the black
Mongol discovered us using a strange machine, he
thought it an excellent opportunity to "show off" be-

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 139

fore the lamas. Therefore, he told them that we were
casting a spell over the great temple by m^ans of the
motion picture camera which I was swinging up and
down and from side to side. This may not be the true
explanation of the trouble but at least it was the one
which sounded most logical to us.

Our lama had been caught in the city, and it was
with difficulty that we were able to obtain his release.
The police charged that he tried to escape when they
ordered him to stop. He related how they had slapped
his face and pulled his ears before they allowed him to
leave the jail, and he was a very much frightened young
man when he appeared at Andersen, Meyer's com-
pound. However, he was delighted to have escaped so
easily, as he had had excellent prospects of spending a
week or two in one of the prison coffins.

The whole performance had the gravest possibilities,
and we were exceedingly fortunate in not having been
seriously injured or killed. By playing upon their su-
perstitions, the black Mongol had so inflamed the lamas
that they were ready for anything. I should never have
allowed them to separate me from my wife and, to pre-
vent it, probably would have had to use my pistol. Had
I begun to shoot, death for both of us would have been
inevitable.

The day that we arrived in Urga from the plains we
found the city flooded. The great square in front of
the horse market was a chocolate-colored lake ; a brown
torrent was rushing down the main street; and every
alley was two feet deep in water, or a mass of liquid

140 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

mud. It was impossible to walk without wading to
the knees and even our horses floundered and slipped
about, covering us with mud and water. The river
valley, too, presented quite a different picture than
when we had seen it last. Instead of open sweeps of
grassland dotted with an occasional yurt, now there
were hundreds of felt dwellings interspersed with tents
of white or blue. It was like the encampment of a
great army, or a collection of huge beehives.

Most of the inhabitants were Mongols from the city
who had pitched their yurts in the valley for the sum-
mer. Although the wealthiest natives seem to feel
that for the reception of guests their "position" de-
mands a foreign house, they seldom live in it. Duke
Loobitsan Yangsen had completed his mansion the pre-
vious winter. It was built in Russian style and fur-
nished with an assortment of hideous rugs and foreign
furniture which made one shiver. But in the yard be-
hind the house his yurt was pitched, and there he lived
in comfort.

Loobitsan was a splendid fellow — one of the best
types of Mongol aristocrats. From the crown of his
finely molded head to the toes of his pointed boots, he
was every inch a duke. I saw him in his house one
day reclining on a hang while he received half a dozen
minor officials, and his manner of quiet dignity and con-
scious power recalled accounts of the Mongol princes
as Marco Polo saw them. Loobitsan liked foreigners
and one could always find a cordial reception in his

AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY 141

compound. He spoke excellent Chinese and was un-
usually well educated for a Mongol.

Although he was in charge of the customs station
at Mai-ma-cheng< and owned considerable property,
which he rented to the Chinese for vegetable gardens,
his chief wealth was in horses. In Mongolia a man's
worldly goods are always measured in horses, not in
dollars. When he needs cash he sells a pony or two
and buys more if he has any surplus silver. His bank
is the open plain; his herdsmen are the guardians of
his riches.

Loobitsan's wife, the duchess, was a nice-looking
woman who seemed rather bored with life. She re-
joiced in two gorgeous strings of pearls, which on state
occasions hung from the silver-encrusted horns of hair
to the shoulders of her brocade jacket. Ordinarily she
appeared in a loose red gown and hardly looked regal.

Loobitsan had never seen Peking and was anxious
to go. When General Hsu Shu-tseng made his coup
d'etat in November, 1919, Mr. Larsen and Loobitsan
came to the capital as representatives of the Hutukhtu,
and one day, as my wife was stepping into a millinery
shop on Rue Marco Polo, she met him dressed in all
his Mongol splendor. But he was so closely chap-
eroned by Chinese officials that he could not enjoy him-
self. I saw Larsen not long afterward, and he told me
that Loobitsan was already pining for the open plains
of his beloved Mongolia.

In mid-July, when we returned to Urga, the vege-
table season was at its height. The Chinese, of course,

142 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

do all the gardening; and the splendid radishes, beets,
onions, carrots, cabbages, and beans, which were
brought every day to market, showed the wonderful
possibilities for development along these lines. North
of the Bogdo-ol there is a superabundance of rain and
vegetables grow so rapidly in the rich soil that they
are deliciously sweet and tender, besides being of enor-
mous size. While we were on the plains our food had
consisted largely of meat and we reveled in the change
of diet. We wished often for fruit but that is non-
existent in Mongolia except a few, hard, watery pears,
which merchants import from China.

Mr. Larsen was in Kalgan for the summer but Mr.
Olufsen turned over his house and compound for our
work. I am afraid we bothered him unmercifully, yet
his good nature was unfailing and he was never too
busy to assist us in the innumerable details of packing
the specimens we had obtained upon the plains and in
preparing for our trip into the forests north of Urga.
It is men like him who make possible scientific work
in remote corners of the world.

CHAPTER XI

MONGOLS AT HOME

Until we left Urga the second time Mongolia, to us,
had meant only the Gobi Desert and the boundless,
rolling plains. When we set our faces northward we
found it was also a land of mountains and rivers, of
somber forests and gorgeous flowers.

A new forest always thrills me mightily. Be it of
stately northern pines, or a jungle tangle in the trop-
ics, it is so filled with glamour and mystery that I enter
it with a delightful feeling of expectation. There is
so much that is concealed from view, it is so pregnant
with the possibility of surprises, that I am as excited
as a child on Christmas morning.

The forests of Mongolia were by no means disap-
pointing. We entered them just north of Urga where
the Siberian life zone touches the plains of the central
Asian region and the beginnings of a new fauna are
sharply delineated by the limit of the trees. We had
learned that the Terelche River would offer a fruitful
collecting ground. It was only forty miles from Urga
and the first day's trip was a delight. We traveled
northward up a branch valley enclosed by forested hills
and carpeted with flowers. Never had we seen such

flowers! Acre after acre of bluebells, forget-me-nots,

143

144 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

daisies, buttercups, and cowslips converted the entire
valley into a vast "old-fashioned garden," radiantly-
beautiful. Our camp that night was at the base of a
mountain called the Da Wat which shut us off from
the Terelche River.

On the second morning, instead of golden sunshine,
we awoke to a cloud-hung sky and floods of rain. It
was one of those days when everything goes wrong;
when with all your heart you wish to swear but instead
you must smile and smile and keep on smiling. No one
wished to break camp in the icy deluge but there were
three marshes between us and the Terelche River which
were bad enough in dry weather. A few hours of rain
would make them impassable, perhaps for weeks.

My wife and I look back upon that day and the next
as one of our few, real hardships. After eight hours
of kilhng work, wet to the skin and almost frozen, we
crossed the first dangerous swamp and reached the sum-
mit of the mountain. Then the cart, with our most val-
uable possessions, plunged off the road on a sharp de-
scent and crashed into the forest below. Chen and I
escaped death by a miracle and the other Chinese taxi-
dermist, who was safe and sound, promptly had hys-
terics. It was discouraging, to say the least. We
camped in the gathering darkness on a forty-five-de-
gree slope in mud twelve inches deep. Next day we
gathered up our scattered belongings, repaired the cart,
and reached the river,

I had a letter from Duke Loobitsan Yangsen to a
famous old hunter, Tserin Dorchy by name, who lives

MONGOLS AT HOME 145

in the Terelche region. He had been gone for six days
on a shooting trip when we came into the beautiful val-
ley where his yurts were pitched, but his wife welcomed
us with true Mongolian hospitality and a great dish of
cheese. Our own camp we made just within the for-
est, a mile away.

For a week we hunted and trapped in the vicinity,
awaiting Tserin Dorchy's return. Our arrival created
a deal of interest among the half dozen families in the
neighborhood and, after each had paid a formal call,
they apparently agreed that we were worthy of being
accepted into their community. We were nomads for
the time, just as they are for life. We had pitched
our tents in the forest, as they had erected their yurts
in the meadow beside the river. When the biting winds
of winter swept the valley a few months later they
would move, with all their sheep and goats, to the shel-
ter of the hills and we would seek new hunting
grounds.

Before many days we learned all the valley gossip.
Moreover, we furnished some ourselves for one of the
Chinese taxidermists became enamored of a Mongol
maiden. There were two of them, to be exact, and they
both "vamped" him persistently. The toilettes with
which they sought to allure him were marvels of bril-
liance, and one of them actually scrubbed her little face
and hands with a cake of my yellow, scented soap.

Our servant's affections finally centered upon the
younger girl and I smiled paternally upon the wild-
wood romance. Every night, with a sheepish grin,

146 ' ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Chen would ask to borrow a pony. The responsibili-
ties of chaperones sat lightly on our shoulders, but
sometimes my wife and I would wander out to the edge
of the forest and watch him to the bottom of the hill.
Usually his love was waiting and they would ride off
together in the moonlight — ^where, we never asked!

But we could not blame the boy — ^those Mongolian
nights were made for lovers. The marvel of them we
hold among our dearest memories. Wherever we may
be, the fragrance of pine trees or the sodden smell of a
marsh carries us back in thought to the beautiful valley
and fills our hearts again with the glory of its clear,
white nights.

No matter what the day brought forth, we looked
forward to the evening hunt as best of all. As we
trotted our ponies homeward through the fresh, damp
air we could watch the shadows deepen in the somber
masses of the forest, and on the hilltops see the ragged
silhouettes of sentinel pines against the rose glow of
the sky. Ribbons of mist, weaving in and out above the
stream, clothed the alders in ghostly silver and rested
in billowy masses upon the marshes. Ere the moon
had risen, the stars blazed out like tiny lanterns in the
sky. Over all the valley there was peace unutterable.

We were soon admitted to a delightful comradeship
with the Mongols of our valley. We shared their joys
and sorrows and nursed their minor ills. First to seek
our aid was the wife of the absent hunter, Tserin
Dorchy. She rode up one day with a two-year-old
baby on her arm. The little fellow was badly infected

MONGOLS AT HOME 147

with eczema, and for three weeks one of the lamas in
the tiny temple near their yurt had been mumbling
prayers and incantations in his behalf, without avail.
Fortunately, I had a supply of zinc ointment and be-
fore the month was ended the baby was almost well.
Then came the lama with his bill "for services ren-
dered," and Tserin Dorchy contributed one hundred
dollars to his priestly pocket. A young Mongol with
a dislocated shoulder was my next patient, and when
I had made him whole, the lama again claimed the
credit and collected fifty dollars as the honorarium for
his prayers. And so it continued throughout the sum-
mer; I made the cures, and the priest got the fees.

Although the Mongols all admitted the efficacy of
my foreign medicines, nevertheless they could not bring
themselves to dispense with the lama and his prayers.
Superstition was too strong and fear that the priest
would send an army of evil spirits flocking to their
yurts if they offended him brought the money, albeit
reluctantly, from their pockets. Although the lama
never proposed a partnership arrangement, as I thought
he might have done, he spent much time about our
camp and often brought us bowls of curded milk and
cheese. He was a wandering priest and not a perma-
nent resident of the valley, but he evidently decided
not to wander any farther until we, too, should leave,
for he was with us until the very end.

A short time after we had made our camp near the
Terelche River a messenger arrived from Urga with
a huge package of mail. In it was a copy of Harper's

148 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Magazine containing an account of a flying visit which
I had made to Urga in September, 1918.^ There were
half a dozen Mongols near our tent, among whom was
Madame Tserin Dorchy. I explained the pictures to
the hunter's wife in my best Chinese while Yvette
"stood by" with her camera and watched results. Al-
though the woman had visited Urga several times she
had never seen a photograph or a magazine and for ten
minutes there was no reaction. Then she recognized
a Mongol headdress similar to her own. With a gasp
of astonishment she pointed it out to the others and
burst into a perfect torrent of guttural expletives. A
picture of the great temple at Urga, where she once
had gone to worship, brought forth another volume of
Mongolian adjectives and her friends literally fought
for places in the front row.

News travels quickly in Mongolia and during the
next week men and women rode in from yurts forty or
fifty miles away to see that magazine. I will venture
to say that no American publication ever received more
appreciation or had a more picturesque audience than
did that copy of Harper's.

The absent Tserin Dorchy returned one day when I
was riding down the valley with his wife. We saw two
strange figures on horseback emerging from the for-
est, each with a Russian rifle on his back. Their sad-
dles were strung about with half -dried skins — four roe-
buck, a musk deer, a moose, and a pair of elk antlers
in the "velvet."

* Hatrper'9 Magazine, June, 191^, pp. 1-16.

MONGOLS AT HOME 149

With a joyful shout Madame Tserin Dorchy rode
toward her husband.' He was an oldish man, of fifty-
five years perhaps, with a face as dried and weather-
beaten as the leather beneath his saddle. He may have
been glad to see her but his only sign of greeting was
a ''sci" and a nod to include us both. Her pleasure
was undisguised, however, and as we rode down the
valley she chattered volubly between the business of
driving in half a dozen horses and a herd of sheep.
The monosyllabic replies of the hunter were delivered
in a voice which seemed to come from a long way off
or from out of the earth beneath his pony's feet. I
was interested to see what greeting there would be
upon his arrival at the ywrt. His two daughters and
his infant son were waiting at the door but he had not
even a word for them and only a pat upon the head for
the baby.

All Mongols are independent but Tserin Dorchy
was an extreme in every way. He ruled the half dozen
famihes in the valley like an autocrat. What he com-
manded was done without a question. I was anxious
to get away and announced that we would start the
day after his arrival. "No," said he, "we will go two
days from now." Argument was of no avail. So far
as he was concerned, the matter was closed. When it
came to arranging wages he stated his terms, which
were exorbitant. I could accept them or not as I
pleased; he would not reduce his demands by a single
copper.

As a matter of fact, offers of money make little im-

150 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

pression upon the ordinary Mongols. They produce
well-nigh everything they need for they dress in sheep-
skins during the winter and eat little else than mutton.
When they want cloth, tea, or ammunition, they simply
sell a sheep or a pony or barter with the Chinese mer-
chants.

We found that the personal equation enters very
largely into any dealings with a Mongol. If he likes
you, remuneration is an incident. If he is not inter-
ested, money does not tempt him. His independence
is a product of the wild, free life upon the plains. He
relies entirely upon himself for he has learned that in
the struggle for existence, it is he himself that counts.
Of the Chinaman, the opposite is true. His life is one
of the community and he depends upon his family and
his village. He is gregarious above all else and he
hates to live alone. In this dependence upon his fellow
men he knows that money counts — and there is very
little that a Chinaman will not do for money.

On one of his trips across Mongolia, Mr. Coltman's
car became badly mired within a stone's throw of a
Mongol yurt. Two or three oxen were grazing in
front of the house and Coltman asked the native to
pull his car out of the mud. The Mongol, who was
comfortably smoking his pipe in the sun, was not at
all interested in the matter, but finally remarked cas-
ually that he would do it for eight dollars. There was
no argument. Eight dollars was what he said, and
eight dollars it would have to be or he would not move.
The entire operation of dragging the car to firm

\

MONGOLS AT HOME 151

ground consumed just four minutes. But this instance
was an exception for usually a Mongol is the very
essence of good nature and is ready to assist whenever
a traveler is in difficulty.

Tserin Dorchy's independence kept us in a constant
state of irritation for it was manifested in a dozen
different ways. We would gladly have dispensed with
his services but his word was law in the community
and, if he had issued a "bull" against us, we could not
have obtained another man. For all his age, he was
an excellent hunter and we came to be good friends.

The old man's independence once led him into seri-
ous trouble. He had often looked at the Bogdo-ol
with longing eyes and had made short excursions, with-
out his gun, into its sacred forests. On one of these
trips he saw a magnificent elk with antlers such as he
had never dreamed were carried by any living animal.
He could not forget that deer. Its memory was a
thorn that pricked him wherever else he hunted. Fi-
nally he determined to have it, even if Mongolian law
and the Lama Church had proclaimed it sacred.

Toward the end of July, when he deemed the antlers
just ripe for plucking, he slipped into the forest dur-
ing the night and climbed the mountain. After two
days he killed the elk. But the lamas who patrol
"God's Mountain" had heard the shot and drove him
into a great rock-strewn gorge where they lost his
trail. Believing that he was still within hearing dis-
tance, they shouted to one another that it was useless
to hunt longer and that they had best return. Then

16« ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

they concealed themselves and awaited results. An
hour later Tserin Dorchy crawled out from under a
bowlder directly into their hands.

He had been well-nigh killed before the lamas
brought him down to Urga and was still unconscious
when they dumped him unceremoniously into one of
the prison coffins. He was sentenced to remain a year;
but the old man would not have lived a month if Duke
Loobitsan Yangsen, with whom he had often hunted,
had not obtained his release. His independent spirit
is by no means chastened, however, and I feel sure that
he will shoot another deer on the Bogdo-ol before he
diesl

Three days after his return home, my wife and I
left with him and three other Mongols on our first real
hunt. Our equipment consisted only of sleeping bags
and such food as could be carried on our horses ; it was
a time when living "close to nature" was really neces-
sary. Eight miles away we stopped at the entrance
to a tiny valley. By arranging a bit of canvas over the
low branches of a larch tree we prepared a shelter for
ourselves and another for the hunters.

In fifteen minutes camp was ready and a fire blaz-
ing. When a huge iron basin of water had begun to
warm one of the Mongols threw in a handful of brick
tea, which resembled nothing so much as powdered to-
bacco. After the black fluid had boiled vigorously for
ten minutes each one filled his wooden eating bowl,
put in a great chunk of rancid butter, and then a quan-
tity of finely-ground meal. This is what the Tibetans

MONGOLS AT HOME 163

call isambUj and the buttered tea was prepared exactly
as we had seen the Tibetans make it. The tsamha,
however, was only to enable them to "carry on" until
we killed some game; for meat is the Mongols' "staff
of life," and they care little for anything except ani-
mal food.

The evening hunt yielded no results. Two of the
Mongols had missed a bear, I had seen a roebuck, and
the old man had lost a wounded musk deer on the moun-
tain ridge above the camp. But the game was there
and we knew where to find it on the morrow. In the
gray light of early morning Tserin Dorchy and I rode
up the valley through the dew-soaked grass. Once the
old man stopped to examine the rootings of a ga-hai
(wild boar) , then he continued steadily along the stream
bed. In the half-gloom of the forest the bushes and
trees seemed flat and colorless but suddenly the sun
burned through an horizon cloud, flooding the woods
with golden light. The whole forest seemed instantly to
awaken. It was as though we had come into a dimly
lighted room and touched an electric switch. The trees
and bushes assumed a dozen subtle shades of green,
and the flowers blazed like jewels in the gorgeous wood-
land carpet.

I should have liked to spend the morning in the for-
est but we knew the deer were feeding in the open. On
foot we climbed upward through knee-high grass to the
summit of a hill. There seemed nothing living in the
meadow but as we walked along the ridge a pair of
grouse shot into the air followed by half a dozen chicks

164 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

which buzzed away like brown bullets to the shelter of
the trees. We crossed a flat depression and rested for
a moment on a rounded hilltop. Below us a new valley
sloped downward, bathed in sunshine. Tserin Dorchy
wandered slowly to the right while I studied the edge
of a marsh with my glasses.

Suddenly I heard the muffled beat of hoofs. Jerking
the glasses from my eyes I saw a huge roebuck, crowned
with a splendid pair of antlers, bound into view not
thirty feet away. For the fraction of a second he
stopped, with his head thrown back, then dashed along
the hillside. That instant of hesitation gave me just
time to seize my rifle, catch a glimpse of the yellow-red
body through the rear sight, and fire as he disappeared.
Leaping to my feet, I saw four slender legs waving in
the air. The bullet had struck him in the shoulder and
he was down for good.

My heart pounded with exultation as I lifted his mag-
nificent head. He was the finest buck I had ever seen
and I gloated over his body as a miser handles his gold.
And gold, shining in the sunlight, was never more beau-
tiful than his spotless summer coat.

Right where he lay upon the hillside, amid a veritable
garden of bluebells, daisies, and yellow roses, was the
setting for the group we wished to prepare in the Ameri-
can Museum of Natural History. He would be its cen-
tral figure for his peer could not be found in all Mon-
golia.

As I stood there in the brilliant sunlight, mentally
planning the group, I thought how fortunate I was to

MONGOLS AT HOME 165

have been born a naturalist. A sportsman shoots a deer
and takes its head; later, it hangs above his fireplace
or in the trophy room. If he be one of imagination, in
years to come it will bring back to him the feel of the
morning air, the fragrance of the pine trees, and the
wild thrill of exultation as the buck went down. But
it is a memory picture only and limited to himself. The
mounted head can never bring to others the smallest
part of the joy he felt and the scene he saw.

The naturalist shares his pleasure and, after all, it is
largely that which counts. When the group is con-
structed in the Museum under his direction he can see
reproduced with fidelity and in minutest detail this hid-
den corner of the world. He can share with thousands
of city dwellers the joy of his hunt and teach them some-
thing of the animals he loves and the lands they call
their own.

To his scientific training he owes another source of
pleasure. Every animal is a step in the solution of some
one of nature's problems. Perhaps it is a new discovery,
a species unknown to science. Asia is full of such sur-
prises— I have already found many. Be the specimen
large or small, if it has fallen to your trap or rifle, there
is the thrill of knowing that you have traced one more
small line on the white portion of nature's map.

While I was gazing ^at the fallen buck Tserin Dorchy
stood like a statue on the hilltop, scanning the forest and
valley with the hope that my shot had disturbed another
animal. In a few moments he came down to me. The
old man had lost some of his accustomed calm and, with

166 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

thumb upraised, murmured, ^'Saij sai" Then he gave,
in vivid pantomime, a recital of how he suddenly sur-
prised the buck feeding just below the hill crest and
how he had seen me jerk the glasses from my eyes and
shoot.

Sitting down beside the deer we went through the
ceremony of a smoke. Then Tserin Dorchy eviscerated
the animal, being careful to preserve the heart, liver,
stomach, and intestines. Like all other Orientals with
whom I have hunted, the Mongols boiled and ate the
viscera as soon as we reached camp and seemed to con-
sider them an especial delicacy.

Some weeks later we killed two elk and Tserin
Dorchy inflated and dried the intestines. These were to
be used as containers for butter and mutton fat. After
tanning the stomach he manufactured from it a bag to
contain milk or other liquids. His wife showed me some
really beautiful leather which she had made from roe-
buck skins. Tanning hides and making felt were the
only strictly Mongolian industries which we observed
in the region visited by our expedition. The Mongols
do a certain amount of logging and charcoal burning
and in the autumn they cut hay; but with these excep-
tions we never saw them do any work which could not
be done from horseback.

Our first hunting trip lasted ten days and in the fol-
lowing months there were many others. We became
typical nomads, spending a day or two in some secluded
valley only to move again to other hunting grounds.
For the time we were Mongols in all essentials. The

MONGOLS AT HOME 167

primitive instincts, which lie just below the surface in
us all, responded to the subtle lure of nature and with-
out an effort we slipped into the care-free life of these
children of the woods and plains.

We slept at night under starlit skies in the clean, fresh
forest; the first gray light of dawn found us stealing
through the dew-soaked grass on the trail of elk, moose,
boar or deer; and when the sun was high, like animals,
we spent the hours in sleep until the lengthening shad-
ows sent us out again for the evening hunt. In those
days New York seemed to be on another planet and
very, very far away. Happiness and a great peace was
ours, such as those who dwell in cities can never know.

In the midst of our second hunt the Mongols sud-
denly announced that they must return to the Terelche
Valley. We did not want to go, but Tserin Dorchy
was obdurate. With the limited Chinese at our com-
mand we could not learn the reason, and at the base
camp Lii, *'the interpreter," was wholly incoherent.
"To-morrow, plenty Mongol come," he said. "Riding
pony, all same Peking. Two men catch hold, both fall
down." My wife was perfectly sure that he had lost his
mind, but by a flash of intuition I got his meaning. It
was to be a field meet. "Riding pony, all same Peking"
meant races, and "two men catch hold, both fall down"
could be nothing else than wrestling. I was very proud
of myself, and Lii was immensely relieved.

Athletic contests are an integral part of the life of
every Mongol community, as I knew, and the members
of our valley family were to hold their annual games.

158 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

At Urga, in June, the great meet which the Living God
blesses with his presence is an amazing spectacle, remi-
niscent of the pageants of the ancient emperors. All
the elite of Mongolia gather on the banks of the Tola
River, dressed in their most splendid robes, and the
archery, wrestling, and horse racing are famous
throughout the East.

This love of sport is one of the most attractive char-
acteristics of the Mongols. It is a common ground on
which a foreigner immediately has a point of contact.
The Chinese, on the contrary, despise all forms of physi-
cal exercise. They consider it "bad form," and they do
not understand any sport which calls for violent exer-
tion. They prefer to take a quiet walk, carrying their
pet bird in a cage for an airing ; to play a game of cards ;
or, if they must travel, to loll back in a sedan chair, with
the curtains drawn and every breath of air excluded.

The Terelche Valley meet was held on a flat strip of
ground just below our camp. As my wife and I rode
out of the forest, a dozen Mongols swept by, gorgeous in
flaming red and streaming peacock plumes. They
waved a challenge to us, and we joined them in a wild
race to a flag in the center of the field. On the side of
the hill sat a row of lamas in dazzling yellow gowns;
opposite them were the judges, among whom I recog-
nized Tserin Dorchy, though he was so bedecked, be-
hatted and beribboned that I could hardly realize that
it was the same old fellow with whom we had lived in
camp. (I presume if he saw me in the clothes of civi-
lization he would be equally surprised.)

MONGOLS AT HOME 169

In front of the judges, who represented the most re-
spected laity of the community, were bowls of cheese
cut into tiny cubes. The spectators consisted of two
groups of women, who sat some distance apart in com-
pact masses, the "horns" of their headdresses almost
interlocked. Their costumes were marvels of brilliance.
They looked like a flock of gorgeous butterflies, which
had alighted for a moment on the grass.

The first race consisted of about a dozen ponies,
ridden by fourteen-year-old boys and girls. They swept
up the valley from the starting point in full run, hair
streaming, and uttering wailing yells. The winner was
led by two old Mongols to the row of lamas, before
whom he prostrated himself twice, and received a hand-
ful of cheese. This he scattered broadcast, as he was
conducted ceremoniously to the judges, from whom he
returned with palms brimming with bits of cheese.

Finally, all the contestants in the races, and half a
dozen of the Mongols on horseback, lined up in front
of the priests, each one singing a barbaric chant. Then
they circled about the lamas, beating their horses until
they were in a full run. After the race came wrestling
matches. The contestants sparred for holds and when
finally clinched, each with a grip on the other's waist-
band, endeavored to obtain a fall by suddenly heaving.
When the last wrestling match was finished, a tall Mon-
gol raised the yellow banner, and followed by every man
and boy on horseback, circled about the seated lamas.
Faster and faster they rode, yelling like demons, and
then strung off across the valley to the nearest yurt.

160 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Although the sports in themselves were not remark-
able, the scene was picturesque in the extreme. Oppo-
site to the grassy hill the forest-clad mountains rose,
tier upon tier, in dark green masses. The brilliant yel-
low lamas faced by the Mongols in their blazing robes
and pointed yellow hats, the women, flashing with "jew-
els" and silver, the half -wild chant, and the rush of
horses, gave a barbaric touch which thrilled and fasci-
nated us. We could picture this same scene seven hun-
dred years ago, for it is an ancient custom which has
come down from the days of Kublai Khan. It was as
though the veil of centuries had been lifted for a mo-
ment to allow us to carry away, in motion pictures, this
drama of Mongolian life.

CHAPTER XII

NOMADS OF THE FOREST

Three days after the field meet we left with Tserin
Dorchy and two other Mongols for a wapiti hunt. We
rode along the Terelche River for three miles, some-
times splashing through the soggy edges of a marsh, and
again halfway up a hillside where the ground was firm
and hard; then, turning west on a mountain slope, we
came to a low plateau which rolled away in undulating
sweeps of bush-land between the edges of the dark pine
woods. It was a truly boreal landscape ; we were on the
edge of the forest, which stretches in a vast, rolling sea
of green far beyond the Siberian frontier.

From the summit of the table-land we descended be-
tween dark walls of pine trees to a beautiful valley filled
with parklike openings. Just at dark Tserin Dorchy
turned abruptly into the stream and crossed to a pretty
grove of spruces on a little island formed by two
branches of the river. It was as secluded as a cavern,
and made an ideal place in which to camp. A hundred
feet away the tent was invisible and, save for the tiny
wreaths of smoke which curled above the tree-tops,
there was no sign of our presence there.

After dinner Tserin Dorchy shouldered a pack of
skins and went to a "salt lick" in a meadow west of camp

161

162 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

to spend the night. He returned in the first gray light
of dawn, just as I was making coffee, and reported that
he had heard wapiti barking, but that no animals had
visited the lick. He directed me to go along the hill-
sides north of camp, while the Mongol hunters struck
westward across the mountains.

I had not been gone an hour, and had just worked
across the lower end of a deep ravine, when I heard a
wapiti bark above and behind me. It was a hoarse roar,
exactly like a roebuck, except that it was deeper toned
and louder. I was thrilled as though by an electric cur-
rent. It seemed very far away, much farther than it
really was, and as I crept to the summit of a ridge a
splendid bull wapiti broke through the underbrush. He
had been feeding in the bottom of the ravine and saw
my head instantly as it appeared above the sky line.
There was no chance to shoot because of the heavy
cover; and even when he paused for a moment on the
opposite hillside a screen of tree branches was in my
way.

Absolutely disgusted with myself, I followed the ani-
mal's trail until it was lost in the heavy forest. The
wapiti was gone for good, but on the way back to camp
I picked up a roebuck which acted as some balm to my
injured feelings.

I had climbed to the crest of the mountains enclosing
the valley in which we were camped, and was working
slowly down the rim of a deep ravine. In my soft
leather moccasins I could walk over the springy moss
without a sound, and suddenly saw a yellow-red form

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 163

moving about in a luxurious growth of grass and tinted
leaves. My heart missed a beat, for I thought it was a
wapiti.

Instantly I dropped behind a bush and, as the animal
moved into the open, I saw it was an enormous roebuck
bearing a splendid pair of antlers. I watched him for
a moment, then aimed low behind the foreleg and fired.
The deer bounded into the air and rolled to the bottom
of the ravine, kicking feebly; my bullet had burst the
heart. It was one of the few times I have ever seen an
animal instantly killed with a heart shot for usually
they run a few yards, and then suddenly collapse.

The buck was almost as large as the first one I had
killed with Tserin Dorchy but it had a twisted right
antler. Evidently it had been injured during the ani-
maFs youth and had continued to grow at right angles
to the head, instead of straight up in the normal way.

When I reached camp I found Yvette busily picking
currants in the bushes beside the stream. Her face and
hands were covered with red stains and she looked like
a very naughty little boy who had run away from school
for a day in the woods. Although blueberries grew on
every hillside, we never found strawberries, such as the
Russians in Urga gather on the Bogdo-ol, and only one
patch of raspberries on a burned-off mountain slope.
But the currants were delicious when smothered in
sugar.

Yvette and I rode out to the spot where I had killed
the roebuck to bring it in on Kublai Khan and before
we returned the Mongol hunters had reached camp;

164. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

neither of them had seen game of any kind. During
the day we discovered some huge trout in the stream
almost at our door. We had no hooks or lines, but the
Mongols devised a way to catch the fish which brought
us food, although it would have made a sportsman
shiver. They built a dam of stones across the stream
and one man waded slowly along, beating the water
with a branch to drive the trout out of the pools into the
ripples ; then we dashed into the water and tried to catch
them with our hands. At least a dozen got away but we
secured three by cornering them among the rocks.

They were huge trout, nearly three feet long. Un-
fortunately I was not able to preserve any of them and
I do not know what species they represented. The
Mongols and Chinese often catch the same fish in the
Tola River by means of nets and we sometimes bought
them in Urga. One, which we put on the scales, weighed
nine pounds. Although Ted MacCallie tried to catch
them with a fly at Urga he never had any success but
they probably would take live bait.

August 20 was our second day in camp. At dawn
I was awakened by the patter of rain on the tent and
soon it became a steady downpour. There was no use
in hunting and I went back to sleep. At seven o'clock
Chen, who was fussing about the fire, rushed over to say
that he could see two wapiti on the opposite mountain.
Yvette and I scrambled out of our sleeping bags just
in time to see a doe and a fawn silhouetted against the
sky rim as they disappeared over the crest. Half an
hour later they returned, and I tried a stalk but I lost

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 165

them in the fog and rain. Tserin Dorchy believed that
the animals had gone into a patch of forest on the other
side of the mountain. We tried to drive them out but
the only thing that appeared was a four-year-old roe-
buck which the Mongol killed with a single shot.

We had ridden up the mountain by zigzagging across
the slope, but when we started back I was astounded to
see Tserin Dorchy keep to his saddle. The wet grass
was so slippery that I could not even stand erect and
half the time was sliding on my back, while Kublai Khan
picked his way carefully down the steep descent. The
Mongol never left his horse till we reached camp.
Sometimes he even urged the pony to a trot and, more-
over, had the roebuck strapped behind his saddle. I
would not have ridden down that mountain side for all
the deer in Mongolia!

It had begun to rain in earnest by eleven o'clock, and
we spent a quiet afternoon. There is a charm about a
rainy day when one can read comfortably and let it
pour. The steady patter on the tent gives one the de-
lightful sensation of immediately escaping extreme dis-
comfort. There is no pleasure in being warm unless
the weather is cold; and one never realizes how agree-
able it is to be dry unless the day is wet. This day was
very wet indeed. We had a month's accumulation of
unopened magazines which a Mongol had brought to
our base camp just before we left, so there was no chance
of being bored. The fire had been built half under a
huge, back-log which kept a cheery glow of coals
throughout all the downpour, and Chen made us

166 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

"chowdzea'' — delicious little balls of meat mixed with
onions and seasoned with Chinese sauce. The Mongols
slept and ate and slept some more. We ate and slept
and read. Therefore, we were very happy.

The weather during that summer in the forest was a
source of constant surprise to us. We had never seen
such rapid changes from brilliant sunshine to sheets of
rain. For an hour or two the sky might stretch above
us like a vast blue curtain flecked with tiny masses of
snow-white clouds. Suddenly, a leaden blanket would
spread itself over every inch of celestial space, while a
rush of rain and wind changed the forest to a black chaos
of writhing branches and dripping leaves. In fifteen
minutes the storm would sweep across the mountain
tops, and the sun would again flood our peaceful valley
with the golden light of early autumn.

For autumn had already reached us even though the
season was only mid- August. It was like October in
New York, and we had nightly frosts which withered the
countless flowers and turned the leaves to red and gold.
In the morning, when I crossed the meadows to the
forest, the grass was white with frost and crackled be-
neath my feet like delicate threads of spun glass. My
moccasins were powdered with gleaming crystals of
frozen dew, but at the first touch of sun every twig and
leaf and blade of grass began to drip, as though from a
heavy rain. My feet and legs waist-high were soaked
in half an hour, and at the end of the morning hunt I
was as wet as though I had waded a dozen rivers.

One cannot move on foot in northern MongoUa with-

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 167

out the certainty of a thorough wetting. When the sun
has dried the dew, there are swamps and streamlets in
every valley and even far up the mountain slopes. It
is the heavy rainfall, the rich soil, and the brilliant
sunshine that make northern Mongolia a paradise of
luxurious grass and flowers, even though the real sum-
mer lasts only from May till August. Then, the val-
leys are like an exquisite garden and the woods are
ablaze with color. Bluebells, their stalks bending under
the weight of blossoms, clothe every hillside in a glorious
azure dress bespangled with yellow roses, daisies, and
forget-me-nots. But I think I like the wild poppies
best of all, for their delicate, fragile beauty is wonder-
fully appealing. I learned to love them first in Alaska,
where their pale, yellow faces look up happily from the
storm-swept hills of the Pribilof Islands in the Bering
Sea.

Besides its flowers, this northern country is one of
exceeding beauty. The dark green forests of spruce,
larch and pine, broken now and then by a grove of
poplars or silver birches, the secluded valleys and the
rounded hills are strangely restful and give one a sense
of infinite peace. It is a place to go for tired nerves.
Ragged peaks, towering mountains, and yawning
chasms, splendid as they are, may be subtly disturbing,
engendering a feeling of restlessness and vague depres-
sion. There is none of this in the forests of Mongolia.
We felt as though we might be happy there all our lives
— the mad rush of our other world seemed very far
away and not much worth while.

168 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

As yet this land has been but lightly touched by the
devastating hand of man. A log road cuts the forest
here and there and sometimes we saw a train of ox-carts
winding through the trees; but the primitive beauty of
the mountains remains unmarred, save where a hillside
has been swept by fire. In all our wanderings through
the forests we saw no evidences of occupation by the
Mongols except the wood roads and a few scattered
charcoal pits. These were old and moss-grown, and
save for ourselves the valleys were deserted.

One morning while I was hunting north of camp, I
heard a wapiti roar on the summit of a mountain. I
found its tracks in the soft earth of a game trail which
wound through forest so dense that I could hardly see
a dozen yards. As I stole along the path I heard a sud-
den sneeze exactly like that of a human being and saw
a small, dark animal dash off the trail. I stopped in-
stantly and slowly sank to the ground, kneeling mo-
tionless, with my rifle ready. For five minutes I
remained there — ^the silence of the forest broken only by
the clucking of a hazel grouse above my head. Then
came that sneeze again, sounding even more human
than before. I heard a nervous patter of tiny hoofs,
and the animal sneezed from the bushes at my right. I
kept as motionless as a statue, and the sneezes followed
each other in rapid succession, accompanied by im-
patient stampings and gentle rustlings in the brush.
Then I saw a tiny head emerge from behind a leafy
screen and a pair of brilliant eyes gazing at me steadily.

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 169

Very, very slowly I raised the rifle until the stock
nestled against my cheek; then I fired quickly.

Running to the spot where the head had been I found
a beautiful brown-gray animal lying behind a bush. It
was no larger than a half-grown fawn, but on either side
of its mouth two daggerlike tusks projected, slender,
sharp and ivory white. It was a musk deer — ^the first
living, wild one I had ever seen. Even before I touched
the body I inhaled a heavy, not unpleasant, odor of
musk and discovered the gland upon the abdomen. It
was three inches long and two inches wide, but all the
hair on the rump and belly was strongly impregnated
with the odor.

These little deer are eagerly sought by the natives
throughout the Orient, as musk is valuable for perfume.
In Urga the Mongols could sell a "pod" for five dollars
(silver) and in other parts of China it is worth con-
siderably more. When we were in Yiin-nan we fre-
quently heard of a musk buyer whom the Paris
perfumer, Pinaud, maintained in the remote mountain
village of Atunzi, on the Tibetan frontier.

Because of their commercial value the little animals
are relentlessly persecuted in every country which they
inhabit and in some places they have been completely
exterminated. Those in Mongolia are particularly dif-
ficult to kill, since they live only on the mountain sum-
mits in the thickest forests. Indeed, were it not for their
insatiable curiosity it would be almost impossible ever
to shoot them.

They might be snared, of course, but I never saw any

170 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

traps or devices for catching animals which the Mon-
gols used ; they seem to depend entirely upon their guns.
This is quite unlike the Chinese, Koreans, Manchus,
Malays, and other Orientals with whom I have hunted,
for they all have developed ingenious snares, pitfalls
and traps.

The musk sac is present only in the male deer and is,
of course, for the purpose of attracting the does. Un-
fortunately, it is not possible to distinguish the sexes
except upon close examination, for both are hornless,
and as a result the natives sometimes kill females which
they would prefer to leave unmolested.

The musk deer use their tusks for fighting and also
to dig up the food upon which they live. I frequently
found new pine cones which they had torn apart to get
at the soft centers. During the winter they develop an
exceedingly long, thick coat of hair which, however, is
so brittle that it breaks almost like dry pine needles;
consequently, the skins have but little commercial value.

Late one rainy afternoon Tserin Dorchy and I rode
into a beautiful valley not far from where we were
camped. When well in the upper end, we left our horses
and proceeded on foot toward the summit of a ridge on
which he had killed a bear a month earher.

Motioning me to walk to the crest of the ridge from
the other side, the old man vanished like a ghost among
the trees. When I was nearly at the top I reached the
edge of a small patch of burned forest. In the half
darkness the charred stiunps and skeleton trees were as
black as ebony. As I was about to move into the open

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 171

I saw an object which at first seemed to be a curiously
shaped stump. I looked at it casually, then something
about it arrested my attention. Suddenly a tail switched
nervously and I realized that the "stump" was an enor-
mous wild boar standing head-on, watching me.

I fired instantly, but even as I pressed the trigger
the animal moved and I knew that the bullet would
never reach its mark. But my brain could not telegraph
to my finger quickly enough to stop its action and the
boar dashed away unharmed. It was the largest pig
I have ever seen. As he stood on the summit of the
ridge he looked almost as big as a Mongol pony. It was
too dark to follow the animal so I returned to camp, a
very dejected man.

I have never been able to forget that boar and I sup-
pose I never shall. Later, I killed others but they can
never destroy the memory of that enormous animal as
he stood there looking down at me. Had I realized that
it was a pig only the fraction of a second sooner it would
have been a different story. But that is the fortune of
shooting. In no other sport is the line between success
and failure so closely drawn; of course, it is that which
makes it so fascinating. At the end of a long day's hunt
one chance may be given; then all depends on a clear
eye, a steady hand and, above all, judgment. In your
action in that single golden second rests the success or
failure of, perhaps, a season's trip. You may have trav-
eled thousands of miles, spent hundreds of dollars, and
had just one shot at the "head of heads."

Some men tell me that they never get excited when

172 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

they hunt. Thank God, I do. There would be no fun
at all for me if I didm/t get excited. But, fortunately,
it all comes after the crucial moment. When the stock
of the rifle settles against my cheek and I look across
the sights, I am as cold as steel. I can shoot, and keep
on shooting, with every brain cell concentrated on the
work in hand but when it is done, for better or worse,
I get the reaction which makes it all worth while.

One morning, a week after we had been in camp,
Tserin Dorchy and I discovered a cow and a calf wapiti
feeding in an open forest. It was a delight to see how
the old Mongol stalked the deer, slipping from tree to
bush, sometimes on his knees or flat on his face in the
soft moss carpet. When we were two hundred yards
away we drew up behind a stump. I took the cow,
while Tserin Dorchy covered the calf and at the sound
of our rifles both animals went down for good. I was
glad to have them for specimens because we never got
a shot at a bull in Mongoha, although twice I lost one
by the merest chance. One of our hunters brought in
a three-year-old moose a short time after we got the
wapiti and another had a long chase after a wounded
bear.

It was the first week in September when we returned
to the base camp, our ponies heavily loaded with skins
and antlers. The Chinese taxidermists under my direc-
tion had made a splendid collection of small mammals,
and we had pretty thoroughly exhausted the resources
of the forests in the Terelche region. Therefore, Yvette

NOMADS OF THE FOREST 173

and I decided that it would be well to ride into Urga
and make arrangements for our return to Peking.

We did the fifty miles with the greatest ease and
spent the night with Mamen in Mai-ma-cheng. Next
day Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie arrived, much to our de-
light. They were to spend the winter in Urga on busi-
ness and they brought a supply of much needed am-
munition, photographic plates, traps and my Mann-
licher rifle. This equipment had been shipped from
New York ten months earlier but had only just reached
Peking and been released from the Customs through
the heroic efforts of Mr. Guptil.

We had another two weeks' hunting trip before we
said good-by to Mongolia but it netted few results.
All the valleys, which had been deserted when we were
there before, were filled with Mongols cutting hay for
the winter feed of their sheep and goats. Of course,
every camp was guarded by a dog or two, and their con-
tinual barking had driven the moose, elk, and bear far
back into the deepest forests where we had no time to
follow.

Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie had taken a house in Urga,
just opposite the Russian Consulate, and they enter-
tained us while I packed our collections which were
stored in Andersen, Meyer's godown. It was a full
week's work, for we had more than a thousand speci-
mens. The forests of Mongolia had yielded up their
treasures Ss we had not dared to hope they would, and
we left them with almost as much regret as we had left
the plains.

174 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

October first the specimens started southward on
camel back. Kublai Khan, my pony, went with them,
while we left in the Chinese Government motor cars.
For two hundred miles we rushed over the same plains
which, a few months earlier, we had laboriously crossed
with our caravan. Every spot was pregnant with de-
lightful memories. At this well we had camped for a
week and hunted antelope ; in that ragged mass of rocks
we had killed a wolf; out on the Turin plain we had
trapped twenty-six marmots in an enormous colony.

Those had been glorious days and our hearts were sad
as we raced back to Peking and civilization. But one
bright spot remained — we need not yet leave our be-
loved East ! Far to the south, in brigand-infested moun-
tains on the edge of China, there dwelt a herd of bighorn
sheep, the argali of the Mongols. Among them was a
great ram, and we had learned his hiding place. How
we got him is another story.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY

I know of no other country about which there is so
much misinformation as about Mongolia. Because
the Gobi Desert stretches through its center the popular
conception appears to be that it is a waste of sand and
gravel incapable of producing anything. In the pre-
ceding chapters I have attempted to give a picture of
the country as we found it and, although our interests
were purely zoological, I should like to present a few
notes regarding its commercial possibilities, for I have
never seen a land which is readily accessible and is yet so
undeveloped.

Every year the Far East is becoming increasingly im-
portant to the Western World, and especially to the
people of the United States, for China and its depend-
encies is the logical place for the investment of Ameri-
can capital. It is the last great undeveloped field, and
I am interested in seeing the American business man
appreciate the great opportunities which await him in
the Orient.

It is true that the Gobi Desert is a part of Mongolia,

but only in its western half is it a desolate waste ; in the

eastern section it gradually changes into a rolling plain

covered with "Gobi sage brush" and short bunch grass.

176

176 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

When one looks closely one sees that the underlying soil
is very fine gravel and sand.

There is little water in this region except surface
ponds, which are usually dry in summer, and caravans
depend upon wells. The water in the desert area con-
tains some alkali but, except in a few instances, the
impregnation is so slight that it is not especially dis-
agreeable to the taste. Mr. Larsen told me that there
is no part of the country between Kalgan and Urga in
which water cannot be found within ten or twenty feet
of the surface. I am not prepared to say what this arid
region could be made to produce. Doubtless, from the
standpoint of agriculture it would be of little impor-
tance but sheep and goats could live upon its summer
vegetation, I am sure.

It is difficult to say where the Gobi really begins or
ends when crossing it between Kalgan and Urga, for
the grasslands both on the south and north merge so im-
perceptibly into the arid central part that there is no
real "edge" to the desert; however, it is safe to take
Panj-kiang as the southern margin, and Turin as the
northern limit, of the Gobi. Both in the north and south
the land is rich and fertile — ^much like the plains of Si-
beria or the prairies of Kansas and Nebraska.

Such is the eastern Gobi from June to mid-Septem-
ber. In the winter, when the dried vegetation exposes
the surface soil, the whole aspect of the country is
changed and then it does resemble the popular concep-
tion of a desert. But what could be more desertlike

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 177

than our north China landscape when frost has stripped
away the green clothing of its hills and fields?

The Chinese have already demonstrated the agricul-
tural possibilities in the south and every year they reap
a splendid harvest of oats, wheat, millet, buckwheat and
potatoes. On the grass-covered meadowlands, both
north and south of the Gobi, there are vast herds of
sheep, goats, cattle and horses, but they are only a
fraction of the numbers which the pasturage could sup-
port. The cattle and sheep which are exported through
China can be sent to Kalgan "on the hoof," for since
grass is plentiful, the animals can graze at night and
travel during the day. This very materially reduces the
cost of transportation.

Besides the great quantities of beef and mutton which
could be raised and marketed in the Orient, America
or Europe, thousands of pounds of wool and camel hair
could be exported. Of course both of these articles are
produced at the present time, but only in limited quanti-
ties. In the region where we spent the summer, the
Mongols sometimes do not shear their sheep or camels
but gather the wool from the ground when it has
dropped off in the natural process of shedding. Prob-
ably half of it is lost, and the remainder is full of dirt
and grass which detracts greatly from its value. More-
over, when it is shipped the impurities add at least
twenty per cent to its weight, and the high cost of trans-
portation makes this an important factor. Indeed,
under proper development the pastoral resources of
Mongolia are almost unlimited.

178 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

The Turin-Urga region has another commercial asset
in the enormous colonies of marmots which inhabit the
country for hundreds of miles to the north, east and
west. The marmots are prolific breeders — each pair
annually producing six or eight young — and, although
their fur is not especially fine, it has always been valu-
able for coats. Several million marmot pelts are shipped
every year from Mongolia, the finest coming from
Uliassutai in the west, and were American steel traps
introduced the number could be doubled.

Urga is just being discovered as a fur market. Many
skins which have been taken well across the Russian
frontier are sold in Urga, and as the trade increases it
will command a still wider area. Wolves, foxes, lynx,
bear, wildcats, sables, martens, squirrels and marmots
are brought in by thousands; and great quantities of
sheep, goat, cow and antelope hides are sent annually
to Kalgan. Several foreign fur houses of considerable
importance already have their representatives in Urga
and more are coming every year. The possibilities for
development in this direction are almost boundless, and
I believe that within a very few years Urga will become
one of the greatest fur markets of the Orient.

As in the south the Chinese farmer cultivates the
grasslands of the Mongols, so in the north the Chinese
merchant has assumed the trade. Many firms in Peking
and Tientsin have branches in Urga and make huge
profits in the sale of food, cloth and other essentials to
the Mongols and foreigners and in the export of furs,
skins and wool. It is well-nigh impossible to touch

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 179

business in Mongolia at any point without coming in
contact with the Chinese.

All work not connected with animals is assumed by
Chinese, for the Mongols are almost useless for any-
thing which cannot be done from the back of a horse.
Thus the Chinese have a practical monopoly and they
exercise all their prerogatives in the enormous prices
which they charge for the slightest service. Mongols
and foreigners suffer together in this respect, but there
is no alternative — ^the Chinaman can charge what he
pleases, for he knows full well that no one else will do
the work.

Although there is considerable mineral wealth in
northern Mongolia, up to the present time very little
prospecting has been done. For several years a Rus-
sian company has carried on successful operations for
gold at the Yero mines, between Urga and Kiakhta on
the Siberian frontier, but they have had to import prac-
tically all their labor from China. We often passed
Chinese in the Gobi Desert walking across Mongolia
pushing a wheelbarrow which contained all their earthly
belongings. They were on their way to the Yero mines
for the summer*s work; in the fall they would return on
foot the way they had come. Now that Mongolia is
once more a part of the Chinese Republic, the labor
problem probably will be improved for there will cer-
tainly be an influx of Chinese who are anxious to work.

Transportation is the greatest of all commercial fac-
tors in the Orient and upon it largely depends the de-
velopment of any country. In Mongolia the problem

180 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

can be easily solved. At the present time it rests upon
camel caravans, ox and pony carts and upon automo-
biles for passengers. Camel traffic begins in September
and is virtually ended by the first of June. Then their
places on the trail are taken by ox- and pony carts.
Camels make the journey from Kalgan to Urga in from
thirty to fifty days, but the carts require twice as long.
They travel slowly, at best, and the animals must be
given time to graze and rest. Of course, they cannot
cross the desert when the grass is dry, so that transpor-
tation is divided by the season — camels in winter and
carts in summer, Each camel carries from four hundred
and fifty to five hundred pounds, and the charges for
the journey from Kalgan to Urga vary with conditions
at from five to fifteen cents (silver) per cattie (one and
one-third pounds). Thus, by the time goods have
reached Urga, their value has increased tremendously.

I can, see no reason why motor trucks could not make
the trip and am intending to use them on my next expe-
dition. Between Panj-kiang and Turin, the first and
third telegraph stations, there is some bad going in
spots, but a well made truck with a broad wheel base
and a powerful engine certainly could negotiate the
sand areas without difficulty. After Turin, where the
Gobi may be said to end, the road is like a boulevard.

The motor service for passengers which the Chinese
Government maintains between Kalgan and Urga is a
branch of the Peking-Suiyuan Railway and has proved
successful after some initial difficulties due to careless
and inexperienced chauffeurs. Although the service

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 181

badly needs organization to make it entirely safe and
comfortable, still it has been effective even in its crude
form.

At the present time a great part of the business
which is done with the Mongols is by barter. The Chi-
nese merchants extend credit to the natives for material
which they require and accept in return cattle, horses,
hides, wool, etc., to be paid at the proper season. In
recent years Russian paper rubles and Chinese silver
have been the currency of the country, but since the war
Russian money has so depreciated that it is now prac-
tically valueless. Mongolia greatly needs banking fa-
cilities and under the new political conditions undoubt-
edly these will be materially increased.

A great source of wealth to Mongolia lies in her mag-
nificent forests of pine, spruce, larch and birch which
stretch away in an almost unbroken line of green to far
beyond the Siberian frontier. As yet but small inroads
have been made upon these forests, and as I stood one
afternoon upon the summit of a mountain gazing over
the miles of timbered hills below me, it seemed as though
here at least was an inexhaustible supply of splendid
lumber. But no more pernicious term was ever coined
than "inexhaustible supply!" I wondered, as I watched
the sun drop into the somber masses of the forest, how
long these splendid hills would remain inviolate. Cer-
tainly not many years after the Gobi Desert has been
crossed by lines of steel, and railroad sheds have re-
placed the gold-roofed temples of sacred Urga.

We are at the very beginning of the days of flying,

182 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

and no land which contains such magnificent spruce can
keep its treasure boxes unspoiled for very long. Even
as I write, aeroplanes are waiting in Peking to make
their first flight across Mongolia. The desert nomads
have not yet ceased to wonder at the motor cars which
cover as many miles of plain in one day as their camels
cross in ten. But what will they think when twenty men
leave Kalgan at noon and dine in Urga at seven o'clock
that night ! Seven hundred miles mean very little to us
now ! The start has been made already and, after all, it
is largely that which counts. The automobile has come
to stay, we know; and motor trucks will soon do for
freight what has already been done for passengers, not
only from Kalgan to Urga, but west to Uliassutai, and
on to Kobdo at the very edge of the Altai Mountains.
Few spots in Mongolia need remain untouched, if com-
mercial calls are strong enough.

Last year the first caravans left Feng-chen with
wireless equipment for the eighteen hundred mile jour-
ney across Mongolia to Urumchi in the very heart of
central Asia. Construction at Urga is well advanced
and it will soon begin at Kashgar. When these stations
are completed Kobdo in Mongolia, Hami in Chinese
Turkestan and Sian-fu in Shensi will see wireless shafts
erected ; and old Peking will be in touch with the remot-
est spots of her far-flung lands at any time by day or
night.

These things are not idle dreams — ^they are hard busi-
ness facts already in the first stages of accomplishment.
Why, then, should the railroad be long delayed? It

THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 183

may be built from Kalgan to Urga, or by way of Kwei-
hua-cheng — either route is feasible. It will mean a di-
rect connection between Shanghai, China's greatest
port, and Verkhin Udinsk on the Trans-Siberian Rail-
road via Tientsin, Peking, Kalgan, Urga, Kiakhta. It
will shorten the trip to London by at least four days for
passengers and freight. It will open for settlement and
commercial development a country of boundless possi-
bilities and unknown wealth which for centuries has been
all but forgotten.

Less than seven hundred years ago Mongolia well-
nigh ruled the world. Her people were strong beyond
belief, but her empire crumbled as quickly as it rose,
leaving to posterity only a glorious tradition and a land
of mystery. The tradition will endure for centuries;
but the motor car and aeroplane and wireless have dis-
pelled the mystery forever.

CHAPTER XIV

THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS

Away up in northern China, just south of the Mon-
golian frontier, is a range of mountains inhabited by-
bands of wild sheep. They are wonderful animals,
these sheep, with horns like battering-rams. But the
mountains are also populated by brigands and the two
do not form an agreeable combination from the sports-
man's standpoint.

In reality they are perfectly nice, well-behaved brig-
ands, but occasionally they forget their manners and
swoop down upon the caravan road less than a dozen
miles away. This is done only when scouts bring word
that cargo valuable enough to make it worth while is
about to pass. Each time the brigands make a foray
a return raid by Chinese soldiers can be expected. Oc-
casionally these are real, "honest-to-goodness" fights,
and blood may flow on both sides, but the battle some-
times takes a different form.

With bugles blowing, the soldiers march out to the
hills. Through "middle men" the battle ground has
been agreed upon, and a "David" is chosen from the
soldiers to meet the "Goliath" of the brigands. But
David is particularly careful to leave his gun behind,
and to have his "sling" well stuffed with rifle shells.

184

X

C C t / t * c , c

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 185

Goliath advances to the combat armed only with a bag
of silver dollars. Then an even trade ensues — a dollar
for a cartridge — and the implement of war changes
hands.

The soldiers return to the city with bugles sounding
as merrily as when they left. The commander sends a
report to Peking of a desperate battle with the brig-
ands. He says that, through the extreme valor of his
soldiers, the bandits have been dispersed and many
killed; that hundreds of cartridges were expended in
the fight ; therefore, kindly send more as soon as possible.

All this because the government has an unfortunate
way of forgetting to pay its soldiers in the outlying
provinces. When no money is forthcoming and none is
visible on the horizon, it is not surprising that they take
other means to obtain it. "Battles" of this type are by
no means exceptions — they are more nearly the rule in
many provinces of China.

But what has all this to do with the wild sheep? Its
relation is very intimate, for the presence of brigands in
those Shansi mountains has made it possible for the ani-
mals to exist. The hunting grounds are only five days'
travel from Peking and many foreigners have turned
longing eyes toward the mountains. But the brigands
always had to be considered. Since Sir Richard Dane,
formerly Chief Inspector of the Salt Gabelle, and Mr.
Charles Coltman were driven out by the bandits in 1915,
the Chinese Government has refused to grant passports
to foreigners who wished to shoot in that region. The
brigands themselves cannot waste cartridges at one dol-

186 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

lar each on the sheep, so the animals have been allowed
to breed unmolested.

Nevertheless, there are not many sheep there. They
are the last survivors of great herds which once roamed
the mountains of north China. The technical name of
the species is Ovis commosa (formerly O. jubata) and
it is one of the group of bighorns known to sportsmen
by the Mongol name of argali. In size, as well as ances-
try, the members of this group are the grandfathers of
all the sheep. The largest ram of our Rocky Moun-
tains is a pygmy compared with a full-grown argali.
Hundreds of thousands of years ago the bighorns, which
originated in Asia, crossed into Alaska by way of the
Bering Sea, where there was probably a land connection
at that time. From Alaska they gradually worked
southward, along the mountains of the western coast,
into Mexico and Lower California. In the course of
time, changed environment developed different species;
but the migration route from the Old World to the New
is there for all to read.

The supreme trophy of a sportsman's life is the head
of a Mongolian bighorn sheep. I think it was Rex
Beach who said, "Some men can shoot but not climb.
Some can climb but not shoot. To get a sheep you must
be able to climb and shoot, too."

For its Hall of Asiatic Life, the American Museum
of Natural History needed a group of argalL More-
over, we wanted a ram which would fairly represent the
species, and that meant a very big one. The Reverend
Harry R. Caldwell, with whom I had hunted tiger in

i

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 187

south China, volunteered to get them with me. The
brigands did not worry us unduly, for we both have had
considerable experience with Chinese bandits and we
feel that they are like animals — if you don't tease them,
they won't bite. In this case the "teasing" takes the
form of carrying anything that they could readily dis-
pose of — especially money. I decided that my wife
must remain in Peking. She was in open rebellion
but there was just a possibility that the brigands might
annoy us, and we had determined to have those sheep
regardless of consequences.

Although we did not expect trouble, I knew that
Harry CaldweU could be relied upon in any emergency.
When a man will crawl into a tiger's lair, a tangle of
sword grass and thorns, just to find out what the brute
has had for dinner ; when he will walk into the open in
dim light and shoot, with a .22 high-power rifle, a tiger
which is just ready to charge ; when he will go alone and
unarmed into the mountains to meet a band of brigands
who have been terrorizing the country, it means that he
has more nerve than any one man needs in this life !

After leaving the train at Feng-chen, the journey
was like all others in north China ; slow progress with a
cart over atrocious roads which are either a mass of
sticky mud or inches deep in fine brown dust. We had
four days of it before we reached the mountains but the
trip was full of interest to us both, for along the road
there was an ever-changing picture of provincial life.
To Harry it was especially illuminating because he had
spent nineteen years in south China and had never be-

188 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

fore visited the north. He began to realize what every-
one soon learns who wanders much about the Middle
Kingdom— that it is never safe to generahze in this
strange land. Conditions true of one region may be
absolutely unknown a few hundred miles away. He
was continually irritated to find that his perfect knowl-
edge of the dialect of Fukien Province was utterly use-
less. He was well-nigh as helpless as though he had
never been in China, for the languages of the north and
the south are almost as unlike as are French and Ger-
man. Even our "boys'* who were from Peking had some
difficulty in making themselves understood, although
we were not more than two hundred miles from the
capital.

Instead of hills thickly clothed with sword grass, here
the slopes were bare and brown. We were too far north
for rice; corn, wheat, and kaoliang took the place of
paddy fields. Instead of brick-walled houses we found
dwellings made of clay like the "adobe" of Mexico and
Arizona. Sometimes whole villages were dug into the
hillside and the natives were cave dwellers, spending
their lives within the earth.

All north China is spread with loess. During the
Glacial Period, about one hundred thousand years ago,
when in Europe and America great rivers of ice were
descending from the north, central and eastern Asia
seems to have suffered a progressive dehydration. There
was little moisture in the air so that ice could not be
formed. Instead, the climate was cold and dry, while
violent winds carried the dust in whirling clouds for

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 189

hundreds upon hundreds of miles, spreading it in ever
thickening layers over the hills and plains. Therefore,
the "Ice Age" for Europe and America was a "Dust
Age" for northeastern Asia.

The inns were a constant source of interest to us both.
Their spacious courtyards contrasted strangely with the
filthy "hotels" of southern China. In the north all the
traffic is by cart, and there must be accommodation for
hundreds of vehicles ; in the south where goods are car-
ried by boats, coolies, or on donkey back, extensive com-
pounds are unnecessary. Each night, wherever we ar-
rived, we found the courtyard teeming with life and
motion. Line after line of laden carts wound in through
the wide swinging gates and lined up in orderly array;
there was the steady "crunch, crunch, crunch" of feeding
animals, shouts for the jortggmeda (landlord), and
good-natured chaffing among the carters. In the great
kitchen, which is also the sleeping room, over blazing
fires fanned by bellows, pots of soup and macaroni were
steaming. On the two great hangs (bed platforms),
heated from below by long flues radiating outward from
the cooking fires, dozens of maftis were noisily sucking
in their food or already snoring contentedly, rolled in
their dusty coats.

Many kinds of folk were there; rich merchants en-
veloped in splendid sable coats and traveling in padded
carts; peddlers with packs of trinkets for the women;
wandering doctors selling remedies of herbs, tonics made
from deerhoms or tigers' teeth, and wonderful potions
of "dragons' bones." Perhaps there was a Buddhist

190 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

priest or two, a barber, or a tailor. Often a professional
entertainer sat cross-legged on the kang telling endless
stories or singing for hours at a time in a high-pitched,
nasal voice, accompanying himself upon a tiny snake-
skin violin. It was like a stage drama of concentrated
Chinese country life.

Among this polyglot assembly perhaps there may be
a single man who has arrived with a pack upon his back.
He is indistinguishable from the other travelers and
mingles among the mafuSj helping now and then to feed
a horse or adjust a load. But his ears and eyes are open.
He is a brigand scout who is there to learn what is pass-
ing on the road. He hears all the gossip from neigh-
boring towns as well as of those many miles away, f9r
the inns are the newspapers of rural China, and it is
every one's business to tell all he knows. The scout
marks a caravan, then slips away into the mountains to
report to the leader of his band. The attack may not
take place for many days. While the unsuspecting
mafus are plodding on their way, the bandits are hover-
ing on the outskirts among the hills until the time is ripe
to strike.

I have learned that these brigand scouts are my best
protection, for when a foreigner arrives at a country inn
all other subjects of conversation lose their interest.
Everything about him is discussed and rediscussed, and
the scouts discover all there is to know. Probably the
only things I ever carry which a bandit could use or
dispose of readily, are arms and ammunition. But two
or three guns are hardly worth the trouble which would

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 191

follow the death of a foreigner. The brigands know that
there would be no sham battle with Chinese soldiers in
that event, for the Legations at Peking have a habit of
demanding reparation from the Government and insist-
ing that they get it.

As a raison d^Stre for our trip Caldwell and I had
been hunting ducks, geese, and pheasants industriously
along the way, and not even the "boys" knew our real
destination.

We had looked forward with great eagerness to the
Tai Hai, a large lake, where it was said that water fowl
congregated in thousands during the spring and fall.
We reached the lake the second night after leaving
Feng-cheng. Darkness had just closed about us when
we crossed the summit of a high mountain range and
descended into a narrow, winding cut which eventually
led us out upon the flat plains of the Tai Hai basin.
While we were in the pass a dozen flocks of geese slipped
by above our heads, flying very low, the "wedges" show-
ing black against the starlit sky.

With much difficulty we found an inn close beside the
lake and, after a late supper, snuggled into our fur bags
to be lulled to sleep by that music most dear to a sports-
man's heart, the subdued clamor of thousands of water-
fowl settling themselves for the night.

At daylight we dressed hurriedly and ran to the lake
shore. Harry took a station away from the water at
the base of the hills, while I dropped behind three coni-
cal mounds which the natives had constructed to obtain
salt by evaporation.

192 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

I was hardly in position before two geese came
straight for me. Waiting until they were almost above
my head, I knocked down both with a right and left.
The shots put thousands of birds in motion. Flock after
flock of geese rose into the air, and long lines of ducks
skimmed close to the surface, settling away from shore
or on the mud flats near the water's edge.

No more birds came near me, and in fifteen min-
utes I returned to the inn for breakfast. Harry ap-
peared shortly after with only a mallard duck, for he
had guessed wrong as to the direction of the flight, and
was entirely out of the shooting.

When the carts had started at eight o'clock Harry
and I rode down the shore of the lake to the south, with
Chen to hold our horses. The mud flats were dotted
with hundreds of ruddy sheldrakes, their beautiful bod-
ies glowing red and gold in the sunlight. A hundred
yards from shore half a dozen swans drifted about like
floating snow banks, and ducks and geese by thousands
rose or settled in the lake. We saw a flock of mallards
alight in the short marsh grass and when I fired at least
five hundred greenheads, yellow-nibs, and pintails rose
in a brown cloud.

Crouched behind the salt mounds, we had splendid
shooting and then rode on to join the carts, our ponies
loaded with ducks and geese. The road swung about to
the north, and we saw geese in tens of thousands coming
into the lake across the mountain passes from their
summer breeding grounds in Mongolia and far Siberia.
Regiment after regiment swept past, circled away to the

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 19S

west, and dropped into the water as though at the com-
mand of a field marshal.

Although we were following the main road to Kwei-
hua-cheng, a city of considerable importance not far
from the mountains which contained the sheep, we had
no intention of going there. Neither did we wish to
pass through any place where there might be soldiers,
so on the last day's march we left the highway and fol-»
lowed an unimportant trail to the tiny village of Wu-
shi-tu, which nestles against the mountain's base. Here
we made our camp in a Chinese house and obtained two
Mongol hunters. We had hoped to live in tents, but
there was not a stick of wood for fuel. The natives
burn either coal or grass and twigs, but these would not
keep us warm in an open camp.

About the village rose a chaotic mass of saw-toothed
mountains cut, to the east, by a stupendous gorge. We
stood silent with awe, when we first climbed a winding,
white trail to the summit of the mountain and gazed
into the abysmal depths. My eye followed an eagle
which floated across the chasm to its perch on a project-
ing crag; thence down the sheer face of the cliff a thou-
sand feet to the stream which has carved this colossal
canon from the living rock. Like a shining silver trac-
ing it twisted and turned, foaming over rocks and run-
ning in smooth, green sheets between vertical walls of
granite. To the north we looked across at a splendid
panorama of saw-toothed peaks and ragged pinnacles
tinted with delicate shades of pink and lavender. Be-
neath our feet were slabs of pure white marble and great

194 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

blocks of greenish feldspar. Among the peaks were
deep ravines and, farther to the east, rolling uplands
carpeted with grass. There the sheep are found.

We killed only one goral and a roebuck during the
first two days, for a violent gale made hunting well-nigh
impossible. On the third morning the sun rose in a
sky as blue as the waters of a tropic sea, and not a breath
of air stirred the silver poplar leaves as we crossed the
rocky stream bed to the base of the mountains north of
camp. Fifteen hundred feet above us towered a ragged
granite ridge which must be crossed ere we could gain
entrance to the grassy valleys beyond the barrier.

We had toiled halfway up the slope, when my hunter
sank into the grass, pointed upward, and whispered,
^'pan-ymig" (wild sheep). There, on the very summit
of the highest pinnacle, stood a magnificent ram sil-
houetted against the sky. It was a stage introduction
to the greatest game animal in all the world.

Motionless, as though sculptured from the living
granite, it gazed across the valley toward the village
whence we had come. Through my glasses I could see
every detail of its splendid body — ^the wash of gray with
which many winters had tinged its neck and flanks, the
finely drawn legs, and the massive horns curling about
a head as proudly held as that of a Roman warrior. He
stood like a statue for half an hour, while we crouched
motionless in the trail below; then he turned dehberately
and disappeared.

When we reached the summit of the ridge the ram was
nowhere to be seen, but we found his tracks on a path

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 196

leading down a knifelike outcrop to the bottom of an-
other valley. I felt sure that he would turn eastward
toward the grassy uplands, but Na-mon-gin, my Mon-
gol hunter, pointed north to a sea of ragged mountains.
We groaned as we looked at those towering peaks;
moreover, it seemed hopeless to hunt for a single animal
in "that chaos of ravines and canons.

We had already learned, however, that the Mongol
knew almost as much about what a sheep would do as
did the animal itself. It was positively uncanny. Per-
haps we would see a herd of sheep half a mile away.
The old fellow would seat himself, nonchalantly fill his
pipe and puff contentedly, now and then glancing at the
animals. In a few moments he would announce what
was about to happen, and he was seldom wrong.

Therefore, when he descended to the bottom of the
valley we accepted his dictum without a protest. At
the creek bed Harry and his young hunter left us to
follow a deep ravine which led upward a little to the
left, while Na-mon-gin and I climbed to the crest by
way of a precipitous ridge.

Not fifteen minutes after we parted, Harry's rifle
banged three times in quick succession, the reports roll-
ing out from the gorge in majestic waves of sound. A
moment later the old Mongol saw three sheep silhouetted
for an instant against the sky as they scrambled across
the ridge. Then a voice floated faintly up to me from
out the canon.

"I' V e g o t a f-i-n-e r-a-m," it said, "a b-e-a-u-t-y,"
and even at that distance I could hear its happy ring.

196 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

"Good for Harry," I thought. "He certainly de-
served it after his work of last night;" for on the way
home his hunter had seen an enormous ram climbing a
mountain side and they had followed it to the summit
only to lose its trail in the gathering darkness. Harry
had stumbled into camp, half dead with fatigue, but
with his enthusiasm undiminished.

When Na-mon-gin and I had readied the highest
peak and found a trail which led along the mountain
side just below the crest, we kept steadily on, now and
then stopping to scan the grassy ravines and valleys
which radiated from the ridge like the ribs of a giant
fan. At half past eleven, as we rounded a rocky shoul-
der, I saw four sheep feeding in the bottom of a gorge
far below us.

Quite unconscious of our presence, they worked out
of the ravine across a low spur and into a deep gorge
where the grass still showed a tinge of green. As the
last one disappeared, we dashed down the slope and
came up just above the sheep. With my glasses I could
see that the leader carried a fair pair of horns, but that
the other three rams were small, as argali go.

Lying flat, I pushed my rifle over the crest and aimed
at the biggest ram. Three or four tiny grass stems were
directly in my line of sight, and fearing that they might
deflect my bullet, I drew back and shifted my position
a few feet to the right.

One of the sheep must have seen the movement, al-
though we were directly above them, and instantly all
were oflf. In four jumps they had disappeared around

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 197

a bowlder, giving me time for only a hurried shot at the
last one's white rump-patch. The bullet struck a few
inches behind the ram, and the valley was empty.

Looking down where they had been so quietly feed-
ing only a few moments before, I called myself all
known varieties of a fool. I felt very bad indeed that I
had bungled hopelessly my first chance at an argalL
But the sympathetic old hunter patted me on the shoul-
der and said in Chinese, "Never mind. They were small
ones anyway — not worth having." They were very
much worth having to me, however, and all the light
seemed to have gone out of the world. We smoked a
cigarette, but there was no consolation in that, and I
followed the hunter around the peak with a heart as
heavy as lead.

Half an hour later we sat down for a look around.
I studied every ridge and gully with my glasses with-
out seeing a sign of life. The four sheep had disap-
peared as completely as though one of the yawning ra-
vines had swallowed them up; the great valley bathed
in golden sunlight was deserted and as silent as the
tomb.

I was just tearing the wrapper from a piece of choco-
late when the hunter touched me on the arm and said
quietly, ''Pan-yang li la" (A sheep has come). He
pointed far down a ridge running out at a right angle
to the one on which we were sitting, but I could see
nothing. Then I scanned every square inch of rock,
but still saw no sign of life.

The hunter laughingly whispered, "I can see better

198 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

than you can even with your foreign eyes. He is stand-
ing in that trail — he may come right up to us."

I tried again, following the thin, white line as it
wound from us along the side of the knifelike ridge.
Just where it vanished into space I saw the sheep, a
splendid ram, standing like a statue of gray-brown
granite and gazing squarely at us. He was fully half
a mile away, but the hunter had seen him the instant he
appeared. Without my glasses the animal was merely
a blur to me, but the marvelous eyes of the Mongol
could detect its every movement.

"It is the same one we saw this morning," he said.
"I was sure we would find him over here. He has very
big horns — ^much better than those others."

That was quite true ; but the others had given me a
shot and this ram, splendid as he was, seemed as un-
obtainable as the stars. For an hour we watched him.
Sometimes he would turn about to look across the ra-
vines on either side and once he came a dozen feet to-
ward us along the path. The hunter smoked quietly,
now and then looking through my glasses. "After a
while he will go to sleep," he said, "then we can shoot
him."

I must confess that I had but little hope. The ram
seemed too splendid and much, much too far away. But
I could feast my eyes on his magnificent head and al-
most count the rings on his curling horns.

A flock of red-legged partridges sailed across from
the opposite ridge, uttering their rapid-fire call and
alighted almost at our feet. Then each one seemed to

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 199

melt into the mountain side, vanishing like magic among
the grass and stones. I wondered mildly why they had
concealed themselves so suddenly, but a moment later
there sounded a subdued whir, like the motor of an aero-
plane far up in the sky. Three shadows drifted over,
and I saw three huge black eagles swinging in ever
lowering circles about our heads. I knew then that the
partridges had sought the protection of our presence
from their mortal enemies, the eagles.

When I looked at the sheep again he was lying down
squarely in the trail, lazily raising his head now and then
to gaze about. The hunter inspected the ram through
my glasses and prepared to go. We rolled slowly over
the ridge and then hurried around to the projecting
spur at the end of which the ram was lying.

The going was very bad indeed. Pieces of crumbled
granite were continually slipping under foot, and at
times we had to cling like flies to a wall of rock with a
sheer drop of hundreds of feet below us. Twice the
Mongol cautiously looked over the ridge, but each time
shook his head and worked his way a little farther. At
last he motioned me to slide up beside him. Pushing
my rifle over the rock before me, I raised myself a few
inches and saw the massive head and neck of the ram
two hundred yards away. His body was behind a rocky
shoulder, but he was looking squarely at us and in a
second would be off.

I aimed carefully just under his chin, and at the roar
of the high-power shell, the ram leaped backward.
"You hit him," said the Mongol, but I felt he must be

200 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

wrong; if the bullet had found the neck he would have
dropped like lead.

Never in all my years of hunting have I had a feeling
of such intense surprise and self-disgust. I had been
certain of the shot and it was impossible to believe that
I had missed. A lump rose in my throat and I sat with
my head resting on my hands in the uttermost depths of
dejection.

And then the impossible happened! Why it hap-
pened, I shall never know. A kind Providence must
have directed the actions of the sheep, for, as I raised my
eyes, I saw again that enormous head and neck appear
from behind a rock a hundred yards away; just that
head with its circlet of massive horns and the neck —
nothing more. Almost in a daze I lifted my rifle, saw
the little ivory bead of the front sight center on that
gray neck, and touched the trigger. A thousand echoes
crashed back upon us. There was a clatter of stones, a
confused vision of a ponderous bulk heaving up and
back — and all was still. But it was enough for me;
there could be no mistake this time. The ram was
mine.

The sudden transition from utter dejection to the
greatest triumph of a sportsman's life set me wild with
joy. I yelled and pounded the old Mongol on the back
until he begged for mercy; then I whirled him about in
a war dance on the summit of the ridge. I wanted to
leap down the rocks where the sheep had disappeared
but the hunter held my arm. For ten minutes we sat
there waiting to make sure that the ram would not dash

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS Wl

away while we were out of sight in the ravine below.
But I knew in my heart that it was all unnecessary. My
bullet had gone where I wanted it to go and that was
quite enough. No sheep that ever walked could live
with a Mannlicher ball squarely in its neck.

When we finally descended, the animal lay halfway
down the slope, feebly kicking. What a huge brute he
was, and what a glorious head! I had never dreamed
that an argali could be so splendid. His horns were
perfect, and my hands could not meet around them at
the base.

Then, of course, I wanted to know what had hap-
pened at my first shot. The evidence was there upon
his face. My bullet had gone an inch high, struck him
in the corner of the mouth, and emerged from his right
cheek. It must have been a painful wound, and I shall
never cease to wonder what strange impulse brought
him back after he had been so badly stung. The second
ball had been centered in the neck as though in the
bulFs-eye of a target.

The skin and head of the sheep made a pack weigh-
ing nearly one hundred pounds, and the old Mongol
groaned as he looked up at the mountain barriers which
separated us from camp. On the summit of the first
ridge we found the trail over which we had passed in
the morning. Half an hour later the hunter jerked
me violently behind a ledge of rock. "Pan-yang/' he
whispered, "there, on the mountain side. Can't you see
him?" I could not, and he tried to point to it with my
rifle. Just at that instant what I had supposed to be a

20a ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

brown rock came to life in a whirl of dust and vanished
into the ravine below.

We waited breathlessly for perhaps a minute — it
seemed hours — then the head and shoulders of a sheep
appeared from behind a bowlder. I aimed low and fired,
and the animal crumpled in its tracks. A second later
two rams and a ewe dashed from the same spot and
stopped upon the hillside less than a hundred yards
away. Instinctively I sighted on the largest but
dropped my rifle without touching the trigger. The
sheep was small, and even if we did need him for the
group we could not carry his head and skin to camp that
night. The wolves would surely have found his carcass
before dawn, and it would have been a useless waste of
life.

The one I had killed was a fine young ram. With
the skin, head, and parts of the meat packed upon my
shoulders we started homeward at six o'clock. Our
only exit lay down the river bed in the bottom of a
great canon, for in the darkness it would have been dan-
gerous to follow the trail along the cliffs. In half an
hour it was black night in the gorge. The vertical walls
of rock shut out even the starlight, and we could not see
more than a dozen feet ahead.

I shall never forget that walk. After wading the
stream twenty-eight times I lost count, I was too cold
and tired and had fallen over too many rocks to have it
make the slightest difference how many more than
twenty-eight times we went into the icy water. The
hundred-pound pack upon my back weighed more every

GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 203

hour, but the thought of those two splendid rams was as
good as bread and wine.

Harry was considerably worried when we reached
camp at eleven o'clock, for in the village there had been
much talk of bandits. Even before dinner we meas-
ured the rams and found that the horns of the one he had
killed exceeded the published records for the species by
half an inch in circumference. The horns were forty-
seven inches in length, but were broken at the tips ; the
original length was fifty-one inches; the circumference
at the base was twenty inches. Moreover, mine was not
far behind in size.

As I snuggled into my fur sleeping bag that night, I
realized that it had been the most satisfactory hunting
day of my life. The success of the group was assured,
with a record ram for the central figure. We had three
specimens already, and the others would not be hard to
get.

The next morning four soldiers were waiting in the
courtyard when we awoke. With many apologies they
informed us that they had been sent by the commander
of the garrison at Kwei-hua-cheng to ask us to go back
with them. The mountains were very dangerous ; brig-
ands were swarming in the surrounding country; the
commandant was greatly worried for our safety.
Therefore, would we be so kind as to break camp at
once.

We told them politely, but firmly, that it was impos-
sible for us to comply with their request. We needed
the sheep for a great museum in New York, and we

204t ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

could not return without them. As they could see for
themselves our passports had been properly viseed by
the Foreign Office in Peking, and we were prepared to
stay.

The soldiers returned to Kwei-hua-cheng, and the
following day we were honored by a visit from the com-
mandant himself. To him we repeated our determina-
tion to remain. He evidently realized that we could not
be dislodged and suggested a compromise arrangement.
He would send soldiers to guard our house and to ac-
company us while we were hunting. We assented read-
ily, because we knew Chinese soldiers. Of course, the
sentinel at the door troubled us not at all, and the ones
who were to accompany us were easily disposed of. For
the first day's hunt with our guard we selected the
roughest part of the mountain, and set such a terrific
pace up the almost perpendicular slope that before long
they were left far behind. They never bothered us
again.

CHAPTER XV

MONGOLIAN AROALI

Although we had seen nearly a dozen sheep where we
killed our first three rams, the mountains were deserted
when Harry returned the following morning. He
hunted faithfully, but did not see even a roebuck; the
sheep all had left for other feeding grounds. I re-
mained in camp to superintend the preparation of our
specimens.

The next day we had a glorious hunt. By six o'clock
we were climbing the winding, white trail west of camp,
and for half an hour we stood gazing into the gloomy
depths of the stupendous gorge, as yet unlighted by the
morning sun. Then we separated, each making toward
the grassy uplands by different routes.

Na-mon-gin led me along the summit of a broken
ridge, but, evidently, he did not expect to find sheep in
the ravines, for he kept straight on, mile after mile, with
never a halt for rest. At last we reached a point where
the plateau rolled away in grassy waves of brown. We
were circling a rounded hill, just below the crest, when,
not thirty yards away, three splendid roe deer jumped
to their feet and stood as though frozen, gazing at us ;
then, with a snort, they dashed down the slope and up
the other side. They had not yet disappeared, when two

205

S06 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

other bucks crossed a ridge into the bottom of the draw.
It was a sore trial to let them go, but the old hunter had
his hand upon my arm and shook his head.

Passing the summit of the hill, we sat down for a
look around. Before us, nearly a mile away, three shal-
low, grass-filled valleys dropped steeply from the roll-
ing meadowland. Almost instantly through my binoc-
ulars I caught the moving forms of three sheep in the
bottom of the central draw. ''Pariryang'' I said to the
Mongol. "Yes, yes, I see them," he answered. "One
has very big horns." He was quite right ; for the largest
ram carried a splendid head, and the other was by no
means small. The third was a tiny ewe. The animals
wandered about nibbling at the grass, but did not move
out of the valley bottom. After studying them awhile
the hunter remarked, "Soon they will go to sleep. We'll
wait till then. They would hear or smell us if we went
over now."

I ate one of the three pears I had brought for tiiSn
and smoked a cigarette. The hunter stretched himself
out comfortably upon the grass and pulled away at his
pipe. It was very pleasant there, for we were protected
from the wind, and the sun was delightfully warm. I
watched the sheep through the glasses and wondered if
I should carry home the splendid ram that night. Fi-
nally the little ewe lay down and the others followed her
example.

We were just preparing to go when the hunter
touched my arm. "Pan-yang" he whispered. "There,
coming over the hill. Don't move." Sure enough, a

MONGOLIAN ARGALI 207

sheep was trotting slowly down the hillside in our di-
rection. Why he did not see or smell us, I cannot
imagine, for the. wind was in his direction. But he
came on, passed within one hundred feet, and stopped
on the summit of the opposite swell. What a shot!
He was so close that I could have counted the rings on
his horns — and they were good horns, too, just the size
we wanted for the group. But the hunter would not
let me shoot. His heart was set upon the big ram
peacefully sleeping a mile away.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" is a
motto which I have followed with good success in hunt-
ing, and I was loath to let that argali go even for the
prospect of the big one across the valley. But I had
a profound respect for the opinion of my hunter. He
usually guessed right, and I had found it safe to fol-
low his advice.

So we watched the sheep walk slowly over the crest
of the hill. The Mongol did not tell me then, but he
knew that the animal was on his way to join the others,
and his silence cost us the big ram. You may wonder
how he knew it. I can only answer that what that*
Mongol did not know about the ways of sheep was not
worth learning. He seemed to think as the sheep
thought, but, withal, was a most intelligent and delight-
ful companion. His ready sympathy, his keen humor,
and his interest in helping me get the finest specimens
of the animals I wanted, endeared him to me in a way
which only a sportsman can understand. His Shansi
dialect and my limited Mandarin made a curious com-

208 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

bination of the Chinese language, but we could al-
ways piece it out with signs, and we never misunder-
stood each other on any important matter.

We had many friendly differences of opinion about
the way in which to conduct a stalk, and his childlike
glee when he was proved correct was most refreshing.
One morning I got the better of him, and for days he
could not forget it. We were sitting on a hillside, and
with my glasses I picked up a herd of sheep far away
on the uplands. "Yes," he said, "one is a very big
ram." How he could tell at that distance was a mys-
tery to me, but I did not question his statement for he
had proved too often that his range of sight was al-
most beyond belief.

We started toward the sheep, and after half a mile
I looked again. Then I thought I saw a grasscutter,
and the animals seemed like donkeys. I said as much
but the hunter laughed. "Why, I saw the horns," he
said. "One is a big one, a very big one." I stopped
a second time and made out a native bending over, cut-
ting grass. But I could not convince the Mongol. He
disdained my glasses and would not even put them to
his eyes. "I don't have to — I krum) they are sheep,"
he laughed. But I, too, was sure. "Well, we'll see,"
he said. When we looked again, there could be no mis-
take ; the sheep were donkeys. It was a treat to watch
the Mongol's face, and I made much capital of his mis-
take, for he had so often teased me when I was wrong.

But to return to the sheep across the valley which
we were stalking on that sunlit Thursday noon. After

MONGOLIAN ARGALI 209

the ram had disappeared we made our way slowly
around the hilltop, whence he had come, to gain a con-
necting meadow which would bring us to the ravine
where the argali were sleeping. On the way I was in
a fever of indecision. Ought I to have let that ram
go? He was just what we wanted for the group, and
something might happen to prevent a shot at the oth-
ers. It was "a bird in the hand" again, and I had been
false to the motto which had so often proved true.

Then the "something" I had feared did happen. We
saw a grasscutter with two donkeys emerge from a
ravine on the left and strike along the grassy bridge
five hundred yards beyond us. If he turned to the
right across the upper edge of the meadows, we could
whistle for our sheep. Even if he kept straight ahead,
possibly they might scent him. The Mongol's face was
like a thundercloud. I believe he would have strangled
that grasscutter could he have had him in his hands.
But the Fates were kind, and the man with his donkeys
kept to the left across the uplands. Even then my
Mongol would not hurry. His motto was "Slowly,
slowly," and we seemed barely to crawl up the slope of
the shallow valley which I hoped still held the sheep.

On the summit of the draw the old hunter motioned
me behind him and cautiously raised his head. Then a
little farther. Another step and a long look. He
stood on tiptoe, and, settling back, quietly motioned
me^to move up beside him.

Just then a gust of wind swept across the hilltop
and into the ravine. There was a rush of feet, a clat-

210 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

ter of sliding rock, and three argali dashed into view
on the opposite slope. They stopped two hundred
yards away. My hunter was frantically whispering,
"One more. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." I was at a
loss to understand, for I knew there were only three
sheep in the draw. The two rams both seemed enor-
mous, and I let drive at the leader. He went down
like lead — shot through the shoulders. The two others
ran a few yards and stopped again. When I fired, the
sheep whirled about but did not fall. I threw in an-
other shell and held the sight well down. The "putt"
of a bullet on flesh came distinctly to us, but the ram
stood without a motion.

The third shot was too much, and he slumped for-
ward, rolled over, and crashed to the bottom of the
ravine. All the time Na-mon-gin was frantically whis-
pering, "Not right. Not right. The big one. The big
one." As the second sheep went down I learned the rea-
son. Out from the valley directly below us rushed a
huge ram, washed with white on the neck and shoulders
and carrying a pair of enormous, curling horns. I was
too surprised to move. How could four sheep be there,
when I knew there were only three!

Usually I am perfectly cool when shooting and have
all my excitement when the work is done, but the un-
expected advent of that ram turned on the thrills a
bit too soon. I forgot what I had whispered to myself
at every shot, "Aim low, aim low. You are shooting
down hill," I held squarely on his gray-white shoulder
and pulled the trigger. The bullet just grazed his

MONGOLIAN ARGALI 211

back. He ran a few steps and stopped. Again I fired
hurriedly, and the ball missed him by the fraction of
an inch. I saw it strike and came to my senses with a
jerk; but it was too late, for the rifle was empty. Be-
fore I could cram in another shell the sheep was gone.

Na-mon-gin was absolutely disgusted. Even though
I had killed two fine rams, he wanted the big one.
"But," I said, "where did the fourth sheep come from?
I saw only three." He looked at me in amazement.
"Didn't you know that the ram which walked by us
went over to the others?" he answered. "Any one
ought to have known that much."

Well, I hadn't known. Otherwise, I should have held
my fire. Right there the Mongol read me a lecture on
too much haste. He said I was like every other for-
eigner— always in a rush. He said a lot of other things
which I accepted meekly, for I knew that he was right.
I always am in a hurry. Missing that ram had taken
most of the joy out of the others; and to make matters
worse, the magnificent animal stationed himself on the
very hillside where we had been sitting when we saw
them first and, with the little ewe close beside him,
watched us for half an hour.

Na-mon-gin glared at him and shook his fist. "We'll
get you to-morrow, you old rabbit," he said; and then
to me, "Don't you care. I won't eat till we kill him."

For the next ten minutes the kindly old Mongol
devoted himself to bringing a smile to my lips. He
told me he knew just where that ram would go; we
couldn't have carried in his head anyway; that it would

212 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

be much better to save him for to-morrow; and that I
had killed the other two so beautifully that he was proud
of me.

I continued to feel better when I saw the two dead
argali. They were both fine rams, in perfect condi-
tion, with beautiful horns. One of them was the sheep
which had walked so close to us ; there was no doubt of
that, for I had been able to see the details of his "face
and figure." Every argali has its own special charac-
ters which are unmistakable. In the carriage of his
head, the curve of his horns, and in coloration, he is as
individual as a human being.

While we were examining the sheep, Harry and his
hunter appeared upon the rim of the ravine. They
brought with them, on a donkey, the skin and head of
a fine two-year-old ram which he had killed an hour ear-
lier far beyond us on the uplands. It fitted exactly
into our series, and when we had another big ram and
two ewes, the group would be complete.

Poor Harry was hobbling along just able to walk.
He had strained a tendon in his right leg the previ-
ous morning, and had been enduring the most excru-
ciating pain all day. He wanted to stay and help us
skin the sheep, but I would not let him. We were a
long way from camp, and it would require all his
strength to get back at all.

At half-past four we finished with the sheep, and
tied the skins and much of the meat on the two don-
keys which Harry had commandeered. Our only way
home lay down the river bed, for in the darkness we

MONGOLIAN ARGALI «13

could not follow the trail along the cliffs. By six
o'clock it was black night in the gorge.

The donkeys were our only salvation, for by instinct
— it couldn't have been sight — ^they followed the trail
along the base of the cliffs. By keeping my hands
upon the back of the rearmost animal, and the two
Mongols close to me, we got out of the canon and into
the wider valley. When we reached the village I was
hungry enough to eat chips, for I had had only three
pears since six o'clock in the morning, and it was then
nine at night.

Harry, limping into camp just after dark, had met
my cousin. Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval At-
tache of the American Legation, and Major Austin
Barker of the British Army, whom we had been ex-
pecting. They had reached the village about ten
o'clock in the morning and spent the afternoon shoot-
ing hares near a beautiful temple which Harry had
discovered among the hills three miles from camp. The
boys had waited dinner for me, and we ate it amid a
gale of laughter — ^we were always laughing during the
five days that Tom and Barker were with us.

Harry was out of the hunting the next day because
his leg needed a complete rest. I took Tom out with
me, while Barker was piloted by an old Mongol who
gave promise of being a good hunter. Tom and I
climbed the white trail to the sunmiit of the ridge, while
Barker turned off to the left to gain the peaks on the
other side of the gorge. Na-mon-gin was keen for the
big ram which I had missed the day before. He had

214. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

a very definite impression of just where that sheep was
to be found, and he completely ignored the ravines on
either side of the trail.

Not half a mile from the summit of the pass, the
Mongol stopped and said, "Pan-yang — on that ridge
across the valley." He looked again and turned to
me with a smile. "It is the same ram,'' he said. "I
knew he would be here." Sure enough, when I found
the sheep with my glasses, I recognized our old friend.
The little ewe was with him, and they had been joined
by another ram carrying a circlet of horns, not far short
of the big fellow's in size.

For half an hour we watched them while the Mon-
gols smoked. The sheep were standing on the very
crest of a ridge across the river, moving a few steps
now and then, but never going far from where we first
discovered them. My hunter said that soon they would
go to sleep, and in less than half an hour they filed
down hill into the valley; then we, too, went down,
crossed a low ridge, and descended to the river's edge.
The climb up the other side was decidedly stiff, and it
was nearly an hour before we were peering into the ra-
vine where the sheep had disappeared. They were not
there, and the hunter said they had gone either up or
down the valley — ^he could not tell which way.

We went up first, but no sheep. Then we crossed
to the ridge where we had first seen the argali and cau-
tiously looked over a ledge of rocks. There they were,
about three hundred yards below, and on the alert, for
they had seen Tom's hunter, who had carelessly ex-

MONGOLIAN ARGALI 215

posed himself on the crest of the ridge. Tom fired
hurriedly, neglecting to remember that he was shooting
down hill, and, consequently, overshot the big ram.
They rushed off, two shots of mine falling short at
nearly four hundred yards as they disappeared behind
a rocky ledge.

My Mongol said that we might intercept them if we
hurried, and he led me a merry chase into the bottom
of the ravine and up the other side. The sheep were
there, but standing in an amphitheater formed by in-
accessible cliffs. I advocated going to the ridge above
and trying for a shot, but the hunter scoffed at the
idea. He said that they would surely scent or hear us
long before we could see them,

Tom and his Mongol joined us in a short time, and
for an hour we lay in the sunshine waiting for the sheep
to compose themselves. It was delightfully warm, and
we were perfectly content to remain all the afternoon
amid the glorious panorama of encircling peaks.

At last Na-mon-gin prepared to leave. He indi-
cated that we were to go below and that Tom's hunter
was to drive the sheep toward us. When we reached
the river, the Mongol placed Tom behind a rock at
the mouth of the amphitheater. He took me halfway
up the slope, and we settled ourselves behind two
bowlders.

I was breathing hard from the strenuous climb, and
the old fellow waited until I was ready to shoot; then
he gave a signal, and Tom's hunter appeared at the
very simmiit of the rocky amphitheater. Instantly the

216 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

sheep were on the move, running directly toward us.
They seemed to be as large as elephants, for never be-
fore had I been as close to a living argalL Just as the
animals mounted the crest of a rocky ledge, not more
than fifty yards away, Na-mon-gin whistled sharply,
and the sheep stopped as though turned to stone.

"Now," he whispered, "shoot." As I brought my
rifle to the level it banged in the air. I had been show-
ing the hunters how to use the delicate set-trigger, and
had carelessly left it on. The sheep instantly dashed
away, but there was only one avenue of escape, and
that was down hill past me. My second shot broke the
hind leg of the big ram; the third struck him in the
abdomen, low down, and he staggered, but kept on.
The sheep had reached the bottom of the valley before
my fourth bullet broke his neck.

Tom opened fire when the other ram and the ewe
appeared at the mouth of the amphitheater, but his
rear sight had been loosened in the climb down the
cliff, and his shots went wild. It was hard luck, for I
was very anxious to have him kill an argalL

The abdomen shot would have finished the big ram
eventually, and I might have killed the other before it
crossed the creek; but experience has taught me that
it is best to take no chances with a wounded animal in
rough country such as this. I have lost too many
specimens by being loath to finish them off when they
were badly hit.

My ram was a beauty. His horns were almost equal
to those of the record head which Harry had killed on

PLATE] 'XIV

,5 J. J, »=>

» » > : >l ' ». > '

•,"«'••!

WHERE THE BIGHORN SHEEP ARE FOUND

MONGOLIAN ARGALI «17

the first day, but one of them was marred by a broken
tip. The old warrior must have weathered nearly a
score of winters and have had many battles. But his
new coat was thick and fine — ^the most beautiful of any
we had seen. As he lay in the bottom of the valley I
was impressed again by the enormous size of an argcdis
body. There was an excellent opportunity to com-
pare it with a donkey's, for before we had finished our
smoke, a Mongol arrived driving two animals before
him. The sheep was about one-third larger than the
donkey, and with his tremendous neck and head must
have weighed a great deal more.

After the ram had been skinned Tom and I left
the men to pack in the meat, skin, and head, while we
climbed to the summit of the pass and wandered slowly
home in the twilight. Major Barker came in shortly
after we reached the village. He was almost done, for
his man had taken him into the rough country north
of camp. A strenuous day for a man just from the
city, but Barker was enthusiastic. Even though he had
not killed a ram, he had wounded one in the leg and
had counted twenty sheep — ^more than either Harry or
I had seen during the entire time we had been at Wu-
shi-tu.

When we awoke at five o'clock in the morning, Tom
stretched himself very gingerly and remarked that the
only parts of him which weren't sore were his eyelids!
Harry was still hors de combat with the strained ten-
don in his leg, and I had the beginning of an attack of
influenza. Barker admitted that his joints "creaked"

218 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

considerably; still, he was full of enthusiasm. We
started off together but separated when six miles from
camp. He found sheep on the uplands almost at once,
but did not get a head. Barker was greatly handi-
capped by using a special model U. S. Army Spring-
field rifle, which weighed almost as much as a machine
gun, and could not have been less fitted for hunting in
rough country. No man ever worked harder for an
argali than he did, and he deserved the best head in
the mountains. By noon I was burning with fever and
almost unable to drag myself back to camp. I arrived
at four o'clock, just after Tom returned. He had not
seen a sheep.

The Major hunted next day, but was unsuccessful,
and none of us went to the mountains again, for I had
nearly a week in bed, and Harry was only able to hob-
ble about the court. On the 28th of October, Tom
and Barker left for Peking. Harry and I were sorry
to have them leave us. I have camped with many men
in many countries of the world, but with no two who
were better field companions. Neither Harry nor I
will ever forget the happy days with them.

It was evident that I could not hunt again for at
least a week, although I could sit a horse. We had
seven sheep, and the group was assured; therefore, we
decided to shift camp to the wapiti country, fifty miles
away hoping that by the time we reached there, we
both would be fit again.

I

CHAPTER XVI

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI

All the morning our carts had bumped and rattled
over the stones in a somber valley one hundred and
fifty U^ from where we had killed the sheep. With
every mile the precipitous cliffs pressed in more closely
upon us until at last the gorge was blocked by a sheer
wall of rock. Our destination was a village named
Wu-tai-hai, but there appeared to be no possible place
for a village in that narrow canon.

We were a quarter of a mile from the barrier before
we could distinguish a group of mud- walled huts, seem-
ingly plastered against the rock like a collection of
swallows' nests. No one but a Chinese would have
dreamed of building a house in that desolate place.
It was Wu-tai-hai, without a doubt, and Harry and I
rode forward to investigate.

At the door of a tiny hut we were met by one of
our Chinese taxidermists. He ushered us into the
court and, with a wave of his hand, announced, "This
is the American Legation." The yard was a mass of
straw and mud. From the gaping windows of the
house bits of torn paper fluttered in the wind; inside,
at one end of the largest room, was a bed platform

1 A li equals about one-third of a mile.

219

no ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

made of mud; at the other, a fat mother hog with five
squirming "piglets" sprawled contentedly on the dirt
floor. Six years before Colonel (then Captain)
Thomas Holcomb, of the United States Marine Corps,
had spent several days at this hut while hunting elk.
Therefore, it will be known to Peking Chinese until
the end of time as the "American Legation."

An inspection of the remaining houses in the village
disclosed no better quarters, so our boys ousted the
sow and her family, swept the house, spread the kang
and floor with clean straw, and pasted fresh paper over
the windows. We longed to use our tents, but there
was nothing except straw or grass to bum, and cook-
ing would be impossible. The villagers were too poor
to buy coal from Kwei-hua-cheng, forty miles away,
and there was not a sign of wood on the bare, brown
hills.

At the edge of the kanffj in these north Shansi houses,
there is always a clay stove which supports a huge iron
pot. A hand bellows is built into the side of the stove,
and by feeding straw or grass with one hand and ener-
getically manipulating the bellows with the other, a
fire sufiicient for simple cooking is obtained.

Except for a few hours of the day the house is as
cold as the yard outside, but the natives mind it not at
all. Men and women alike dress in sheepskin coats
and padded cotton trousers. They do not expect to
remove their clothing when they come indoors, and
warmth, except at night, is a nonessential in their
scheme of life. A system of flues draws the heat from

I

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 221

the cooking fires underneath the kang^ and the clay
bricks retain their temperature for several hours.

At best the north China natives lead a cheerless ex-
istence in winter. The house is not a home. Dark,
cold, dirty, it is merely a place in which to eat and sleep.
There is no home-making instinct in the Chinese wife,
for a centuries' old social system, based on the Con-
fucian ethics, has smothered every thought of the priv-
ileges of womanhood. Her place is to cook, sew, and
bear children; to reflect only the thoughts of her lord
and master — to have none of her own.

Wu-tai-hai was typical of villages of its class in all
north China; mud huts, each with a tiny courtyard,
built end to end in a corner of the hillside. A few acres
of ground in the valley bottom and on the mountain
side capable of cultivation yield enough wheat, corn,
turnips, cabbages, and potatoes to give the natives food.
Their life is one of work with few pleasures, and yet
they are content because they know nothing else.

Imagine, then, what it meant when we suddenly in-
jected ourselves into their midst. We had come from
a world beyond the mountains — a world of which they
had sometimes heard, but which was as unreal to them
as that of another planet. Europe and America were
merely names. A few had learned from passing sol-
diers that these strange men in that dim, far land had
been fighting among themselves and that China, too,
was in some vague way connected with the struggle.

But it had not affected them in their tiny rock-boimd
village. Their world was encompassed within the val-

222 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

ley walls or, in its uttermost limits, extended to Kwei-
hua-cheng, forty miles away. They knew, even, that
a "fire carriage" running on two rails of steel came
regularly to Feng-chen, four days' travel to the east,
but few of them had ever seen it. So it was almost
as unreal as stories of the war and aeroplanes and
automobiles.

All the village gathered at the "American Lega-
tion" while we unpacked our carts. They gazed in
silent awe at our guns and cameras and sleeping bags,
but the trays of specimens brought forth an active re-
sponse. Here was something that was a part of their
own life — something they could understand. Mice and
rabbits like these they had seen in their own fields ; that
weasel was the same kind of animal which sometimes
stole their chickens. They pointed to the rocks when
they saw a red-legged partridge, and told us there were
many there; also pheasants.

Why we wanted the skins they could not understand,
of course. I told them that we would take them far
away across the ocean to America and put them in a
great house as large as that hill across the valley; but
they smilingly shook their heads. The ocean meant
nothing to them, and as for a house as large as a hill —
well, there never could be such a place. They were per-
fectly sure of that.

We had come to Wu-tai-hai to hunt wapiti — ma-lu
(horse-deer) the natives call them — and they assured
us that we could find them on the mountains behind
the village. Only last night, said one of the men, he

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI nS

had seen four standing on the hillside. Two had ant-
lers as long as that stick, but they were no good now
— ^the horns were hard — we should have come in the
spring when they were soft. Then each pair was worth
$150, at least, and big ones even more. The doctors
make wonderful medicine from the horns — only a lit-
tle of it would cure any disease no matter how bad it
was. They themselves could not get the ma-lu^ for the
soldiers had long since taken away all their guns, but
they would show us where they were.

It was pleasant to hear all this, for we wanted some
of those wapiti very badly, indeed. It is one of the
links in the chain of evidence connecting the animals
of the Old World and the New — the problem which
makes Asia the most fascinating hunting ground of all
the earth.

When the early settlers first penetrated the forests
of America they found the great deer which the In-
dians called "wapiti." It was supposed for many years
that it inhabited only America, but not long ago similar
deer were discovered in China, Manchuria, Korea, Mon-
golia, Siberia, and Turkestan, where undoubtedly the
American species originated. Its white discoverers er-
roneously named the animal "elk," but as this title
properly belongs to the European "moose," sportsmen
have adopted the Indian name "wapiti" to avoid con-
fusion. Of course, changed environment developed
different "species" in all the animals which migrated
from Asia either to Europe or America, but their re-
lationships are very close, indeed.

^U ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

The particular wapiti which we hoped to get at Wu-
tai-hai represented a species ahnost extinct in China.
Because of relentless persecution when the antlers are
growing and in the "velvet" and continual cutting of
the forests only a few individuals remain in this remote
corner of northern Shansi Province. These will soon
all be killed, for the railroad is being extended to within
a few miles of their last stronghold, and sportsmen will
flock to the hills from the treaty ports of China.

Our first hunt was on November first. We left camp
by a short cut behind the village and descended to the
bowlder-strewn bed of the creek which led into a tre-
mendous gorge. We felt very small and helpless as
our eyes traveled up the well-nigh vertical walls to the
ragged edge of the chasm a thousand feet above us.
The mightiness of it all was vaguely depressing, and
it was with a distinct feeling of relief that we saw the
cailon widen suddenly into a gigiantic amphitheater. In
its very center, rising from a ragged granite pedestal,
a pinnacle of rock, crowned by a tiny temple, shot into
the air. It was three hundred feet, at least, from the
stream bed to the summit of the spire — and what a
colossal task it must have been to transport the build-
ing materials for the temple up the sheer sides of rock !
The valley sinners must gain much merit from the dan-
ger and effort involved in climbing there to worship.

Farther on we passed two villages and then turned
off to the right up a tributary valley. We were anx-
iously looking for signs of forest, but the only possible
cover was in a few ravines where a sparse growth of

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THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 226

birch and poplar bushes, not more than six or eight
feet high, grew on the north slope. Moreover, we
could see that the valley ended in open rolling up-
lands.

Turning to Na-mon-gin, I said, "How much farther
are the ma-lu?" "Here," he answered. "We have al-
ready arrived. They are in the bushes on the moun-
tain side."

Caldwell and I were astounded. The idea of look-
ing for wapiti in such a place seemed too absurd ! There
was hardly enough cover successfully to conceal a rab-
bit, to say nothing of an animal as large as a horse.
Nevertheless, the hunters assured us that the ma-lu
were there, and we began to take a new interest in the
birch scrub. Almost immediately we saw three roe-
buck near the rim of one of the ravines, their white
rump-patches showing conspicuously as they bobbed
about in the thin cover. We could have killed them
easily, but the hunters would not let us shoot, for we
were after larger game.

A few moments later we separated, Harry keeping
on up the main valley, while my hunter and I turned
into a patch of brush directly above us. We had not
gone fifty yards when there was a crash, a rush of feet,
and four wapiti dashed through the bushes. The three
cows kept straight on, but the bull stopped just on the
crest of the ridge directly behind a thick screen of twigs.
My rifle was sighted at the huge body dimly visible
through the branches. In a moment I would have
touched the trigger, but the hunter caught my arm.

ne ACROSS mongolian plains

whispering frantically, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Of course I knew it was a long chance, for the bullet
almost certainly would have been deflected by the twigs,
but those splendid antlers seemed very near and very,
very desirable. I lowered my rifle reluctantly, and the
bull disappeared over the hill crest whence the cows had
gone.

"They'll stop in the next ravine," said the hunter,
but when we cautiously peered over the ridge the ani-
mals were not there — nor were they in the next. At
last we found their trail leading into the grassy uplands ;
but the possibility of finding wapiti, these animals of
the forests, on those treeless slopes seemed too absurd
even to consider. Yet, the old Mongol kept straight
on across the rolling meadow.

Suddenly, off at the right, Harry's rifle banged three
times in quick succession — ^then an interval, and two
more shots. Ten seconds later three wapiti cows
showed black against the sky line. They were coming
fast and straight toward us. We flattened ourselves
in the grass, lying as motionless as two gray bowlders,
and a moment later another wapiti appeared behind
the cows. As the sun glistened on his branching ant-
lers there was no doubt that he was a bull, and a big
one, too.

The cows were headed to pass about two hundred
yards above us and behind the hill crest. I could eas-
ily have reached the summit where they would have
been at my mercy, but lower down the big bull also was
coming, and the hunter would not let me move. "Wait,

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI ««7

wait/' he whispered, "we'll surely get him. Wait, we
can't lose him."

"What about that ravine?" I answered. "He'll go
into the cover. He will never come across this open
hillside. I'm going to shoot."

"No, no, he won't turn there. I am sure he won't,"
The Mongol was right. The big fellow ran straight
toward us until he came to the entrance to the val-
ley. My heart was in my mouth as he stopped for an
instant and looked down into the cover. Then, for
some strange reason, he turned and came on. Three
hundred yards away he halted suddenly, swung about,
and looked at the ravine again as if half decided to go
back.

He was standing broadside, and at the crash of my
rifle we could hear the soft thud of the bullet striking *
flesh; but without a sign of injury he ran forward and
stopped under a swell of ground. I could see just ten
inches of his back and the magnificent head. It was a
small target at three hundred yards, and I missed him
twice. With the greatest care I held the little ivory
bead well down on that thin brown line, but the bullet
only creased his back. It was no use — I simply could
not hit him. Running up the hill a few feet, I had his
whole body exposed, and the first shot put him down
for good.

With a whoop of joy my old Mongol dashed down
the steep slope. I had never seen him excited while
we were hunting sheep, but now he was wild with de-
light. Before he had quieted we saw Harry coming

228 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

over the hill where the wapiti had first appeared. He
told us that he had knocked the bull down at long range
and had expected to find him dead until he heard me
shooting. We found where his bullet had struck the
wapiti in the shoulder, yet the animal was running as
though untouched.

I examined the bull with the greatest interest, for
it was the first Asiatic wapiti of this species that I had
ever seen. Its splendid antlers carried eleven points
but they were not as massive in the beam or as sharply
bont backward at the tips as are those of the American
elk. Because of its richer coloration, however, it was
decidedly handsomer than any of the American ani-
mals.

But the really extraordinary thing was to find the
wapiti there at all. It seemed as incongruous as the
first automobile that I saw upon the Gobi Desert, for
in every other part of the world the animal is a resi-
dent of the park-like openings in the forests. Here not
a twig or bush was in sight, only the rolling, grass-
covered uplands. Undoubtedly these mountains had
been wooded many years ago, and as the trees were cut
away, the animals had no alternative except to die or
adapt themselves to almost plains conditions. The
sparse birch scrub in the ravines still afforded them
limited protection during the day, but they could feed
only at night. It was a case of rapid adaptation to
changed environment such as I have seen nowhere else
in all the world.

The wapiti, of course, owed their continued exist-

THE "HORSE-DEER" OF SHANSI 229

ence to the fact that the Chinese villagers of the valley
had no firearms; otherwise, when the growing antlers
set a price upon their heads, they would all have been
exterminated within a year or two.

CHAPTER XVII

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL

After the first day we left the "American Legation"
and moved camp to one of two villages at the upper
end of the valley about a mile nearer the hunting
grounds. There were only half a dozen huts, but they
were somewhat superior to those of Wu-tai-hai, and we
were able to make ourselves fairly comfortable. The
usual threshing floor of hard clay adjoined each house,
and all day we could hear the steady beat, beat, beat,
of the flails pounding out the wheat.

The grain was usually freed from chaff by the sim-
ple process of throwing it into the air when a brisk
wind was blowing, but we saw several hand winnowing
machines which were exceedingly ingenious and very
effective. The wheat was ground between two circular
stones operated by a blindfolded donkey which plodded
round and round tied to a shaft. Of course, had the
animal been able to see he would not have walked con-
tinuously in a circle without giving trouble to his master.

Behind our new house the chffs rose in sheer walls
for hundreds of feet, and red-legged partridges, or
chuckars, were always calling from some ledge or
bowlder. We could have excellent shooting at almost
any hour of the day and often picked up pheasants,

230

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 231

bearded partridges, and rabbits in the tiny fields across
the stream. Besides the wapiti and roebuck, goral were
plentiful on the cliflfs and there were a few sheep in
the lower valley. Altogether it was a veritable game
paradise, but one which I fear will last only a few years
longer.

We found that the wapiti were not as easy to kill as
the first day's hunt had given us reason to believe. The
mountains, separated by deep ravines, were so high and
precipitous that if the deer became alarmed and crossed
a valley it meant a climb of an hour or more to reach
the crest of the new ridge. It was killing work, and
we returned to camp every night utterly exhausted.

The concentration of animal life in these scrub-filled
gorges was really extraordinary, and I hope that a
"game hog" never finds that valley. Probably in no
other part of China can one see as many roebuck in
a space so limited. It is due, of course, to the unusual
conditions. Instead of being scattered over a large
area, as is usual in the forest where there is an abun-
dance of cover, the animals are confined to the few ra-
vines in which brush remains. The surrounding open
hills isolate them almost as effectively as though they
were encircled by water; when driven from one patch
of cover they can only run to the next valley.

The facility with which the roebuck and wapiti had
adapted themselves to utterly new conditions was a con-
tinual marvel to me, and I never lost the feeling of sur-
prise when I saw the animals on the open hillside or
running across the rolling, treeless uplands. Had an

I

232 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

elephant or a rhinoceros suddenly appeared in place
of a deer, it would not have seemed more incongruous.

After we had killed the first wapiti we did not fire
a shot for two days, even though roebuck were all about
us and we wanted a series for the Museum. This spe-
cies, Capreolus hedfordi, is smaller both in body and in
antlers than the one we obtained in Mongolia and dif-
fers decidedly in coloration.

On the second hunt I, alone, saw forty-five roebuck,
and Harry, who was far to the north of me, counted
thirty-one. The third day we were together and put
out at least half as many. During that time we saw
two wapiti, but did not get a shot at either. Both of
us were becoming decidedly tired of passing specimens
which we wanted badly and decided to go for roebuck
regardless of the possibility of frightening wapiti by
the shooting. Na-mon-gin and the other hunters were
disgusted with our decision, for they were only inter-
ested in the larger game. For the first two drives they
worked only half-heartedly, and although seventeen
deer were put out of one ravine, they escaped without
giving us a shot.

Harry and I held a council of war with the natives
and impressed upon them the fact that we were intend-
ing to hunt roebuck that day regardless of their per-
sonal wishes. They realized that we were not to be
dissuaded and prepared to drive the next patch of cover
in a really businesslike manner.

Na-mon-gin took me to a position on the edge of a
projecting rock to await the natives. As they ap-

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 2S3

peared on the rim of the ravine we saw five roe deer
move in the bushes where they had been asleep. Four
of them broke back through the line of beaters, but
one fine buck came straight toward us. He ran up the
slope and crossed a rock-saddle almost beneath me, but
I did not fire until he was well away on the opposite
hillside ; then he plunged forward in his tracks, dead.

Without moving from our position we sent the men
over the crest of the mountain to drive the ravines on
the other side. The old Mongol and I stretched out
upon the rock and smoked for half an hour, while I
tried to tell him in my best Chinese — ^which is very bad
— the story of a bear hunt in Alaska. I had just killed
the bear, in my narrative, when we saw five roebuck
appear on the sky line. They trotted straight toward
Harry, and in a moment we heard two shots in quick
succession. I knew that meant at least one more deer.

Five minutes later we made out a roebuck rounding
the base of the spur on which we sat. It seemed no
larger than a brown rabbit at that distance, but the
animal was running directly up the bottom of the ra-
vine which we commanded. It was a buck carrying
splendid antlers and we watched him come steadily on
until he was almost below us.

Na-mon-gin whispered, "Don't shoot until he stops";
but it seemed that the animal would cross the ridge
without a pause. He was almost at the summit when
he halted for an instant, facing directly away from
us. I fired, and the buck leaped backward shot through
the neck.

234. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Na-mon-gin was in high good humor, for I had killed
two deer with two shots. Harry brought a splendid
doe which he had bored neatly through the body as it
dashed at full speed across the valley below him. Even
the old Mongol had to admit that the wapiti could not
have been greatly disturbed by the shooting, and all the
men were as pleased as children. There was meat
enough for all our boys as well as for the beaters.

Our next day's hunt was for goral on the precipitous
cliffs north of camp. Goral belong to a most interest-
ing group of mammals known as the "goat-antelopes"
because of the intermediate position which they occupy
between the true antelope and the goats. The takin,
serow, and goral are the Asiatic members of this
sub-family, the ^Rupicaprince, which is represented in
America by the so-called Rocky Mountain goat and in
Europe by the chamois. The goral might be called the
Asiatic chamois, for its habits closely resemble those
of its European relative.

I had killed twenty-five goral in Yiin-nan on the first
Asiatic expedition and, therefore, was not particularly
keen, from the sporting standpoint, about shooting oth-
ers. But we did need several specimens, since the north
China goral represents a different species, Nemor-
hcedus caudatuSj from the one we had obtained in Yiin-
nan, which is A^. griseiLS.

Moreover, Harry was exceedingly anxious to get sev- J
eral of the animals for he had not been very successful
with them. He had shot one at Wu-shi-tu, while we
were hunting sheep, and after wounding two others at

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 235

Wu-tai-hai had begun to learn how hard they are to
kill.

The thousand-foot climb up the almost perpendicular
cliff was one of the most difficult bits of going which we
encountered anywhere in the mountains, and I was
ready for a rest in the sun when we reached the sum-
mit. Although my beaters were not successful in put-
ting out a goral, we heard Harry shoot once away to
the right; and half an hour later I saw him through
my binoculars accompanied by one of his men who car-
ried a goral on his shoulders.

On the way Harry disturbed a goral which ran down
the sheer wall opposite to us at full speed, bouncing
from rock to rock as though made of India rubber. It
was almost inconceivable that anything except a bird
could move along the face of that cliff, and yet the
goral ran apparently as easily as though it had been on
level ground. I missed it beautifully and the animal
disappeared into a cave among the rocks. Although
I sent two bullets into the hole, hoping to drive out the
beast, it would not move. Two beaters made their way
from above to within thirty feet of the hiding place and
sent down a shower of dirt and stones, but still there
was no sign of action. Then another native climbed up
from below at the risk of his life, and just as he gained
the ledge which led to the cave the goral leaped out.
The Mongol yelled with fright, for the animal nearly
shoved him off the rocks and dashed into the bottom of
the ravine where it took refuge in another cave.

I would not have taken that thousand-foot climb

236 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

again for all the gorals in China, but Harry started
down at once. The animal again remained in its cave
until a beater was opposite the entrance and then shot
out like an arrow almost into Harry's face. He was
so startled that he missed it twice.

I decided to abandon goral hunting for that day.
Na-mon-gin took me over the summit of the ridge with
two beaters and we found roebuck at once. I returned
to camp with two bucks and a doe. In the lower valley
I met Harry carrying a shotgun and accompanied by
a boy strung about with pheasants and chuckars. After
losing the goral he had toiled up the mountain again
but had found only two roebuck, one of which he shot.

Our second wapiti was killed on November seventh.
It was a raw day with an icy wind blowing across the
ridges where we lay for half an hour while the beaters
bungled a drive for twelve roebuck which had gone into
a scrub-filled ravine. The animals eluded us by run-
ning across a hilltop which should have been blocked
by a native, and I got only one shot at a fox. The re-
port of my rifle disturbed eight wapiti which the beat-
ers discovered as they crossed the uplands in the di-
rection of another patch of cover a mile away.

It was a long, cold walk over the hills against the bit-
ing wind, and after driving one ravine unsuccessfully
Harry descended to the bottom of a wide valley, while
I continued parallel with him on the summit of the
ridge. Three roebuck suddenly jumped from a shal-
low ravine in front of me, and one of them, a splendid
buck, stopped behind a bush. It was too great a

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 237

temptation, so I fired; but the bullet went to pieces in
the twigs and never reached its mark. Harry saw the
deer go over the hill and ran around the base of a rocky
shoulder just in time to intercept three wapiti which
my shot had started down the ravine. He dropped be-
hind a bowlder and let a cow and a calf pass within a
few yards of him, for he saw the antlers of a bull rock-
ing along just behind a tiny ridge. As the animal came
into view he sent a bullet into his shoulder, and a sec-
ond ball a few inches behind the first. The elk went
down but got to his feet again, and Harry put him
under for good with a third shot in the hip.

Looking up he saw another bull, alone, emerging
from a patch of cover on the summit of the opposite
slope four hundred yards away. He fired point-blank,
but the range was a bit too long and his bullet kicked
up a cloud of snow under the animal's belly.

I was entirely out of the race on the summit of the
hill, for the nearest wapiti was fully eight hundred yards
away. Harry's bull was somewhat smaller than the
first one we had killed, but had an even more beautiful
coat.

We were pretty well exhausted from the week's
strenuous climbing and spent Sunday resting and look-
ing after the small mammal work which our Chinese
taxidermists had been carrying on under my direc-
tion.

Monday morning we were on the hunting grounds
shortly after sunrise. At the first drive a beautiful
buck roe deer ran out of a ravine into the main valley

238 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

where I was stationed. Suddenly he caught sight of
us where we sat under a rock and stopped with head
thrown up and one foot raised. I shall never forget
the beautiful picture which he made standing there
against the background of snow with the sun glancing
on his antlers. Before I could shoot he was off at top
speed bounding over the bushes parallel to us. My
first shot just creased his back, but the second caught
him squarely in the shoulder, while he was in mid-air,
turning him over in a complete somersault.

A few moments later we saw the two beaters on the
hill run toward each other excitedly and felt sure they
had seen something besides roebuck. When they
reached us they reported that seven wapiti had run out
directly between them and over the ridge.

The climb to the top of the mountain was an ordeal.
It was the highest ridge on that side of the valley and
every time we reached what appeared to be the crest,
another and higher summit loomed above us. We fol-
lowed the tracks of the animals into a series of ravines
which ran down on the opposite side of the mountain
and tried a drive. It was too large a territory for
our four beaters, and the animals escaped unobserved
up one of the valleys. Na-mon-gin and I sat on the
hillside for an hour in the icy wind. We were both
shaking with cold and I doubt if I could have hit a
wapiti if it had stopped fifty feet away.

Harry saw a young elk go into a mass of birch scrub
in the bottom of the valley, and when he descended to
drive it out, his hunter discovered a huge bull walking

WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 239

slowly up a ravine not two hundred yards from me but
under cover of the hill and beyond my sight.

A little before dark we started home by way of a deep
ravine which extended out to the main valley. We
were talking in a low tone and I was smoking a cigarette
— ^my rifle slung over my shoulder. Suddenly Harry
exclaimed, "Great Scott, Roy! There's a ma-lu,"

On the instant his rifle banged, and I looked up just
in time to see a bull wapiti stop on an open slope of the
ravine about ninety yards away. Before I had un-
slung my rifle Harry fired again, but he could not see
the notch in his rear sight and both bullets went high.

Through the peep sight in my Mannlicher the animal
was perfectly visible, and when I fired, the bull dropped
like lead, rolling over and over down the hill. He at-
tempted to get to his feet but was unable to stand, and
I put him down for good with a second shot. It all
happened so quickly that we could hardly realize that
a day of disappointment had ended in success.

On our way back to camp Harry and I decided that
this would end our hunt, for we had three fine bulls,
and it was evident that only a very few wapiti remained.
The species is doomed to early extinction for, with the
advent of the railroad, the last stand which the elk
have made by means of their extraordinary adaptation
to changed conditions will soon become easily accessible
to foreign sportsmen. We at least could keep our con-
sciences clear and not hasten the inevitable day by
undue slaughter. In western China other species of
wapiti are found in greater numbers, but there can be

240 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

only one end to the persecution to which they are sub-
jected during the season when they are least able to
protect themselves.

It is too much to hope that China will make effective
game laws before the most interesting and important
forms of her wild life have disappeared, but we can do
our best to preserve in museums for future generations
records of the splendid animals of the present. Not
only are they a part of Chinese history, but they belong
to all the world, for they furnish some of the evidence
from which it is possible to write the fascinating story
of those dim, dark ages when man first came upon the
earth.

CHAPTER XVIII

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN

Shansi Province is famous for wild boar among the
sportsmen of China. In the central part there are low
mountains and deep ravines thickly forested with a
scrub growth of pine and oak. The acorns are a fa-
vorite food of the pigs, and the pigs are a favorite food
of the Chinese — and of foreigners, too, for that matter.
No domestic pork that I have ever tasted can excel a
young acorn-fed wild pig! Even a full-grown sow is
delicious, but beware of an old boar; not only is he
tough beyond description, but his flesh is so "strong"
that it annoys me even to see it cooked. I tried to eat
some boar meat, once upon a time — ^that is why I feel
so deeply about it.

It is useless to hunt wild pig until the leaves are
off the trees, for your only hope is to find them feed-
ing on the hillsides in the morning or early evening.
Then they will often come into the open or the thin
forests, and you can have a fair shot across a ravine or
from the summit of a hill. If they are in the brush it
is well-nigh impossible to see them at all. A wild boar
is very clever at eluding his pursuers, and for his size
can carry off more lead and requires more killing than
any other animal of which I know. Therefore, you

241

242 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

may be sure of a decidedly interesting hunt. On the
other hand, an unsuspecting pig is easy to stalk, for his
eyesight is not good ; his sense of smell is not much bet-
ter; and he depends largely upon hearing to protect
him from enemies.

In Tientsin and Shanghai there are several sports-
men who year after year go to try for record tusks —
they are the real authorities on wild boar hunting. My
own experience has been limited to perhaps a dozen
pigs killed in Korea, Mongolia, Celebes, and various
parts of China.

Harry Caldwell and I returned from our bighorn
sheep and wapiti hunt on November 19. He was
anxious to go with me for wild boar, but business re-
quired his presence in Foochow, and Everett Smith,
who had been my companion on a trip to the Eastern
Tombs the previous spring, volunteered to accompany
me. We left on November 28 by the Peking-Han-
kow Railroad for Ping-ting-cho, arriving the follow-
ing afternoon at two o'clock. There we obtained
donkeys for pack and riding animals. All the traffic
in this part of Shansi is by mules or donkeys. As a
result the inns are small, with none of the spacious
courtyards which we had found in the north of the prov-
ince. They were not particularly dirty, but the open
coal fires which burned in every kitchen sometimes
drove us outside for a breath of untainted air. How
it is possible for human beings to exist in rooms so
filled with coal gas is beyond my knowledge. Of
course, death from gas poisoning is not unusual, but I

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN US

suppose the natives have become somewhat iimnune to
its effects.

Our destination was a tiny village in the mountains
about eight miles beyond Ho-shun, a city of consid-
erable size in the very center of the province. Tai-
5ruan-fu, the capital, at the end of the railway, is a
famous place for pigs; but they have been hunted so
persistently in recent years that few remain within less
than two or three days' journey from the city.

It was a three days' trip from the railroad to Ho-
shun, and there was little of interest to distinguish the
road from any other in north China. It is always
monotonous to travel with pack animals or carts, for
they go so slowly that you can make only two or three
miles an hour, at best. If there happens to be shoot-
ing along the way, as there is in most parts of Shansi,
it helps to pass the time. We picked up a few pheas-
ants, some chuckars, and a dozen pigeons, but did not
stop to do any real hunting until we entered a wooded
valley and established ourselves in a fairly comfortable
Chinese hut at the little village of Kao-chia-chuang. On
the way in we met a party of Christian Brother mis-
sionaries who had been hunting in the vicinity for five
days. They had seen ten or twelve pigs and had killed
a splendid boar weighing about three hundred and fifty
poimds as well as two roebuck.

The mountains near the village had been so thor-
oughly hunted that there was little chance of finding
pigs, but nevertheless we decided to stay for a day or
two. I killed a two-year-old roebuck on the first after-

244. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

noon; and the next morning, while Smith and I were
resting on a mountain trail, one of our men saw an
enormous wild boar trot across an open ridge and dis-
appear into a heavily forested ravine. I selected a post
on a projecting shoulder, while one Chinese went with
Smith to pick up the trail of the pig. There were so
many avenues of escape open to the boar that I had to
remain where it was possible to watch a large expanse
of country.

Smith had not yet reached the bottom of the ravine
when the native who had remained with me suddenly
began to gesticulate wildly and to point to a wooded
slope directly in front of us. He hopped about like
a man who has suddenly lost his mind and succeeded in
keeping in front of me so that I could see nothing but
his waving arms and writhing body. Finally seizing
him by the collar, I threw him to the ground so vio-
lently that he realized his place was behind me. Then
I saw the pig running along a narrow trail, silhouetted
against the snow which lay thinly on the shaded side of
the hill.

He was easily three hundred and fifty yards away
and I had little hope of hitting him, but I selected an
open patch beyond a bit of cover and fired as he
emerged. The boar squealed and plunged forward
into the bushes. A moment later he reappeared, zig-
zagging his way up the slope and only visible through
the trees when he crossed a patch of snow. I emptied
the magazine of my rifle in a futile bombardment, but
the boar crossed the summit and disappeared.

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 245

We picked up his bloody trail and for two hours
followed it through a tangled mass of scrub and thorns.
It seemed certain that we must find him at any mo-
ment, for great red blotches stained the snow wherever
he stopped to rest. At last the trail led us across an
open ridge, and the snow and blood suddenly ceased.
We could not follow his footprints in the thick grass
and abandoned the chase just before dark.

Two more days of unsuccessful hunting convinced
us that the missionaries had driven the pigs to other
cover. There was a region twelve miles away to which
they might have gone, and we shifted camp to a vil-
lage named Tziloa a mile or more from the scrub-cov-
ered hills which we wished to investigate.

The natives of this part of the country were in no
sense hunters. They were farmers who, now that the
crops were harvested, had plenty of leisure time and
were glad to roam the hills with us. Although their
eyesight was remarkable and they were able to see a
pig twice as far as we could, they had no conception of
stalking the game or of how to hunt it. When we be-
gan to shoot, instead of watching the pigs, they were
always so anxious to obtain the empty cartridge cases
that a wild scramble ensued after every shot. They
were like street boys fighting for a penny. It was a
serious handicap for successful hunting, and they kept
me in such a state of irritation that I never shot so badly
in all my life.

We found pigs at Tziloa immediately. The carts
went by road to the village, while Smith and I, with two

246 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Chinese, crossed the mountains. On the summit of a
ridge not far from the village we met eight native hunt-
ers. Two of them had ancient muzzle-loading guns
but the others only carried staves. Evidently their
method of hunting was to surround the pigs and drive
them close up to the men with firearms.

We persuaded one of the Chinese, a boy of eighteen,
with cross-eyes and a funny, dried-up little face, to
accompany us, for our two guides wished to return
that night to Kao-chia-chuang. He led us down a spur
which projected northward from the main ridge, and
in ten minutes we discovered five pigs on the opposite
side of a deep ravine. The sun lay warmly on the
slope, and the animals were lazily rooting in the oak
scrub. They were a happy family — a boar, a sow, and
three half -grown piglets.

We slipped quietly among the trees until we were
directly opposite to them and not more than two hun-
dred yards away. The boar and the sow had disap-
peared behind a rocky corner, and the others were
slowly following so that the opportunity for a shot
would soon be lost. Telling Smith to take the one on
the left-, I covered another which stood half facing me.
At the roar of my rifle the ravine was filled with wild
squeals, and the pig rolled down the hill bringing up
against a tree. The boar rushed from behind the rock,
and I fired quickly as he stood broadside on. He
plunged out of sight, and the gorge was still!

Smith had missed his pig and was very much dis-
gusted. The three Chinese threw themselves down the

WILD PIG&— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 247

slope, slipping and rolling over logs and stones, and
were up the opposite hill before we reached the bottom
of the ravine. They found the pig which I had killed
and a blood-splashed trail leading around the hill where
the boar had disappeared.

My pig was a splendid male in the rich red-brown
coat of adolescence. The bullet had struck him "amid-
ships" and shattered the hip on the opposite side. From
the blood on the trail we decided that I had shot the
big boar through the center of the body about ten inches
behind the forelegs.

We had learned by experience how much killing a
full-grown pig required, and had no illusions about
finding him dead a few yards away, even though both
sides of his path were blotched with red at every step.
Therefore, while the Chinese followed the trail. Smith
and I sprinted across the next ridge into a thickly
forested ravine to head off the boar.

We took stations several yards apart, and suddenly
I heard Smith's rifle bang six times in quick succes-
sion. The Chinese had disturbed the pig from a patch
of cover and it had climbed the opposite hill slope in
full view of Smith, who apparently had missed it ©very
time. Missing a boar dodging about among the bushes
is not such a difficult thing to do, and although poor
Smith was too disgusted even to talk about it, I had a
good deal of sympathy for him.

We had little hope of getting the animal when we
climbed to the summit of the ridge and saw the tangle
of brush into which it had disappeared, but neverthe-

us ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

less we followed the trail which was still showing blood.
I was in front and was just letting myself down a snow-
covered bowlder, when far below me I saw a huge sow
and a young pig walking slowly through the trees. I
turned quickly, lost my balance, and slipped feet first
over the rock into a mass of thorns and scrub. A loco-
motive could not have made more noise, and I extri-
cated myself just in time to see the two pigs disappear
into a grove of pines. I was bleeding from a dozen
scratches, but I climbed to the summit of the ridge and
dashed forward hoping to cut them oiF if they crossed
below me. They did not appear, and we tried to drive
them out from the cover into which they had made their
way ; but we never saw them again. It was already be-
ginning to grow dark and too late to pick up the trail
of the wounded boar, so we had to call it a day and re-
turn to the village.

One of our men carried my shotgun and we killed
half a dozen pheasants on the way back to camp. The
birds had come into the open to feed, and small flocks
were scattered along the valley every few hundred
yards. We saw about one hundred and fifty in less
than an hour, besides a few chuckars.

I have never visited any part of China where pheas-
ants were so plentiful as in this region. Had we been
hunting birds we could have killed a hundred or more
without the slightest difficulty during the time we were
looking for pigs. We could not shoot, however, without
the certainty of disturbing big game and, consequently,
we only killed pheasants when on the way back to camp.

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 249

During the day the birds kept well up toward the sum-
mits of the ridges and only left the cover in the morning
and evening.

Our second hunt was very amusing, as well as success-
ful. We met the same party of Chinese hunters early in
the morning, and agreed to divide the meat of all the
pigs we killed during the day if they would join forces
with us. Among them was a tall, fine-looking young
fellow, evidently the leader, who was a real hunter — ^the
only one we found in the entire region. He knew in-
stinctively where the pigs were, what they would do, and
how to get them.

He led us without a halt along the sunmiit of the
mountain into a ravine and up a long slope to the crest
of a knifelike ridge. Then he suddenly dropped in the
grass and pointed across a canon to a bare hillside. Two
pigs were there in plain sight — one a very large sow.
They were fully three hundred yards away and on the
edge of a bushy patch toward which they were feeding
slowly. Smith left me to hurry to the bottom of the
canon where he could have a shot at close range if either
one went down the hill, while I waited behind a stone.
Before he was halfway down the slope the sow moved
toward the patch of cover into which the smaller pig had
already disappeared. It must be then, if I was to have
a shot at all. I fired rather hurriedly and registered a
clean miss. Both pigs, instead of staying in the cover
where they would have been safe, dashed down the open
slope toward the bottom of the canon. At my first shot
all eight of the Chinese had leaped for the empty rifle

250 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

shell and were rolling about like a pack of dogs after a
bone. One of them struck my leg just as I fired the
second time and the bullet went into the air; I delivered
a broadside of my choicest Chinese oaths and the man
drew off. I sent three shots after the fleeing sow, but
she disappeared unhurt.

One shell remained in my rifle, and I saw the other
pig running like a scared rabbit in the very bottom of
the canon. It was so far away that I could barely see
the animal through my sights, but when I fired it turned
a complete somersault and lay still; the bullet had caught
it squarely in the head.

Meanwhile, Smith was having a lively time with the
old sow. He had swung around a corner of rock just in
time to meet the pig coming at full speed from the other
side not six yards away. He tried to check himself,
slipped, and sat down suddenly but managed to fire
once, breaking the animal's left foreleg. It disappeared
into the brush with Smith after it.

He began an intermittent bombardment which lasted
half an hour. Bang, bang, bang — then silence. Bang,
bang, bang — silence again. I wondered what it all
meant and finally ran down the bottom of the valley
until I saw Smith opposite to me just under the rim of
the ravine. He was tearing madly through the brush
not far behind the sow. As the animal appeared for an
instant on the summit of a rise he dropped on one knee
and fired twice. Then I saw him race over the hill, leap-
ing the bushes like a roebuck. Once he rolled ten feet
into a mass of thorn scrub, but he was up again in an

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 251

instant, hurdling the brush and fallen logs, his eye on
the pig.

It was screamingly funny and I was helpless with
laughter. "Go it, Smith," I yelled. "Run him down.
Catch him in your hands." He had no breath to waste
in a reply, for just then he leaped a fallen log and I
saw the sow charge him viciously. The animal had been
lying under a tree, almost done, but still had life enough
to damage Smith badly if it had reached him. As the
man landed on his feet, he fired again at the pig which
was almost on him. The bullet caught the brute in the
shoulder at the base of the neck and rolled it over, but
it struggled to its feet and ran uncertainly a few steps;
then it dropped in a little gully.

By the time I had begun to climb the hill Smith
shouted that the pig might charge again, and I kept my
rifle ready, but the animal was "all in." I circled warily
and, creeping up from behind, drove my hunting knife
into its heart; even then it struggled to get at me before
it rolled over dead.

Smith was streaming blood from a score of scratches,
and his clothes were in ribbons, but his face was radiant.
"I'd have chased the blasted pig clear to Peking," he
said. "All my shells are gone, but I wasn't going to let
him get away. If I hadn't kept that last cartridge he'd
have caught me, surely."

It was fine enthusiasm and, if ever a man deserved his
game. Smith deserved that sow. The animal had been
shot in half a dozen places ; two legs were broken, and
at least three of the bullets had reached vital spots.

262 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Still the brute kept on. Any one who thinks pigs are
easy to kill ought to try the ones in Shansi! The sow
weighed well over three hundred pounds, and it required
six men to carry the two pigs into camp. We got no
more, although we saw two others, but still we felt
that the day had not been ill spent. As long as I live
I shall never forget Smith's hurdle race after that old
sow.

Although I killed two roebuck, the next day I re-
turned to camp with rage in my heart. Smith and I had
separated late in the afternoon, and I was hunting with
an old Chinese when we discovered three pigs — a huge
boar, a sow, and a shote — crossing an open hill. Crawl-
ing on my face, I reached a rock not seventy yards from
the animals. At the first shot the boar pitched over the
bluff into a tangle of thorns, squealing wildly. My
second bullet broke the shoulder of the sow, and I had
a mad chase through a patch of scrub, but finally lost
her.

When I returned to get the big boar I discovered my
Chinese squatted on his haunches in the ravine. He
blandly informed me that the pig could not be found. I
spent the half hour of remaining daylight burrowing in
the thorn scrub without success. I learned later that
the native had concealed the dead pig under a mass of
stones and that during the night he and his confreres
had carried it away. Moreover, after we left, they also
got the sow which I had wounded. Although at the time
I did not suspect the man's perfidy, nevertheless it was
apparent that he had not kept his eyes on the boar as I

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN

had told him to do ; otherwise the pig could not possibly
have escaped.

We had one more day of hunting because Smith had
obtained two weeks' leave. The next morning dawned
dark and cloudy with spurts of hail — ^just the sort of
weather in which animals prefer to stay comfortably
snuggled under a bush in the thickest cover. Conse-
quently we saw nothing all day except one roebuck,
which I killed. It was running at full speed when I
fired, and it disappeared over the crest of a hill without
a sign of injury. Smith was waiting on the other side,
and I wondered why he did not shoot, until we reached
the summit and discovered the deer lying dead in the
grass. Smith had seen the buck plunge over the ridge,
and just as he was about to fire, it collapsed.

We found that my bullet had completely smashed the
heart, yet the animal had run more than one hundred
yards. As it fell, one of its antlers had been knocked
off and the other was so loose that it dropped in my hand
when I lifted the head. This was on December 11.
The other bucks which I had killed still wore their ant-
lers, but probably they would all have been shed before
Christmas. The growth takes place during the winter,
and the velvet is all off the new antlers by the following
May.

On the way back to camp we saw a huge boar stand-
ing on an open hillside. Smith and I fired hurriedly
and both missed a perfectly easy shot. With one of the
Chinese I circled the ridge, while Smith took up the
animaFs trail. We arrived on the edge of a deep ravine

254 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

just as the boar appeared in the very bottom. I fired
as it rushed through the bushes, and the pig squealed
but never hesitated. The second shot struck behind it,
but at the third it squealed again and dived into a patch
of cover. When we reached the spot we found a great
pool of blood and bits of entrails — but no pig. A broad
red patch led through the snow, and we followed, ex-
pecting at every step to find the animal dead. Instead,
the track carried us down the hill, up the bottom of a
ravine, and onto a hill bare of snow but thickly covered
with oak scrub.

While Smith and I circled ahead to intercept the pig,
the Chinese followed the trail. It was almost dark when
we went back to the men, who announced that the blood
had ceased and that they had lost the track. It seemed
incredible; but they had so trampled the trail where it
left the snow that we could not find it again in the
gloom.

Then Smith and I suspected what we eventually
found to be true, viz., that the men had discovered the
dead pig and had purposely led us astray. We had no
proof, however, and they denied the charge so violently
that we began to think our suspicions were unfounded.

We had to leave at daylight next morning in order to
reach Peking before Smith's leave expired. Two days
after we left, one of my friends arrived at Kao-chia-
chuang, where we had first hunted, and reported that
the Chinese had brought in all four of the pigs which we
had wounded. One of them, probably the boar we lost
on the last night, was an enormous animal which the

WILD PIGS— ANIMAL AND HUMAN 255

natives said weighed more than five hundred pounds.
Of course, this could not have been true, but it probably
did reach nearly four hundred pounds.

What Smith and I said when we learned that the
scoundrels had cheated us would not look well in print.
However, it taught us several things about boar hunting
which will prove of value in the future. The Chinese
can sell wild pig meat for a very high price since it is
considered to be a great delicacy. Therefore, if I wound
a pig in the future I shall, myself, follow its trail to the
bitter end. Moreover, I learned that, to knock over a
wild boar and keep him down for good, one needs a
heavy rifle. The bullet of my 6.5 mm. Mannlicher,
which has proved to be a wonderful killer for anything
up to and including sheep, has not weight enough be-
hind it to stop a pig in its tracks. These animals have
such wonderful vitality that, even though shot in a vital
spot, they can travel an unbelievable distance. Next
time I shall carry a rifle especially designed for pigs
and thieving Chinese I

CHAPTER XIX

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS

The sunshine of an early spring day was flooding the
flower-filled courtyards of Duke Tsai Tse's palace in
Peking when Dr. G. D. Wilder, Everett Smith, and I
alighted from our car at the huge brass-bound gate.
We came by motor instead of rickshaw, for we were on
an official visit which had been arranged by the Ameri-
can Minister. We would have suffered much loss of
"face" had we come in any lesser vehicle than an auto-
mobile, for we were to be received by a "Royal High-
ness," an Imperial Duke and a man in whose veins
flowed the bluest of Manchu blood. Although living in
retirement, Duke Tsai Tse is still a powerful and a re-
spected man.

We were ushered through court after court into a
large reception hall furnished in semi-foreign style but
in excellent taste. A few moments later the duke en-
tered, dressed in a simple gown of dark blue silk. Had
I met him casually on the street I should have known
he was a "personality." His high-bred features were
those of a maker of history, of a man who has faced the
ruin of his own ambitions; who has seen his emperor
deposed and his dynasty shattered ; but who has lost not
one whit of his poise or self-esteem. He carried himself

256

THE GREAT PARE OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 257

with a quiet dignity, and there was a royal courtesy in
his greeting which inspired profound respect. Had he
been marked for death in the revolution I am sure that
he would have received his executioners in the same calm
way that he met us in the reception hall. He listened
with a courteous interest while we explained the object
of our visit. We had come, we told him, to ask permis-
sion to collect natural history specimens in the great
hunting park at the Tung Ling, Eastern Tombs. Here,
and at the Hsi Ling, or Western Tombs, the Manchu
emperors and their royal consorts sleep in splendid
mausoleums among the fragrant pines.

The emperors are buried at the lower end of a vast,
walled park, more than one hundred miles in length.
True to their reverence for the dead, the Chinese con-
querors have never touched these sacred spots, and
doubtless will never do so. They belong unquestion-
ably to the Manchus, even if their dynasty has been
overthrown by force of arms. According to custom,
some member of the royal court is always in residence
at the Eastern Tombs. This fact Tsai Tse gravely ex-
plained, and said that he would commend us in a letter
to Duke Chou, who would be glad to grant us the privi-
leges we asked. Then, by touching his teacup to his
lips, he indicated that our interview was ended. With
the same courtesy he would have shown to a visiting
diplomat he ushered us through the courtyards, while at
each doorway we begged him to return. Such is the
custom in China. That same afternoon a messenger
from the duke arrived at my house in Wu Liang Taj en

258 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Hutung bearing a letter beautifully written in Chinese
characters.

Everett Smith and I left next morning for the East-
ern Tombs. We went by train to Tung-cho, twelve
miles away, where a mafw was waiting with our ponies
and a cart for baggage. The way to the Tung Ling
is a delight, for along it north China country life passes
before one in panoramic completeness. For centuries
this road has been an imperial highway. I could imag-
ine the gorgeous processions that had passed over it and
the pomp and ceremony of the visits of the living em-
perors to the resting places of the dead.

Most vivid of all was the picture in my mind of the
last great funeral only nine years ago. I could see the
imperial yellow bier slowly, solemnly, borne over the
gray Peking hills. In it lay the dead body of the Dow-
ager Empress, Tz'u-hsi — ^most dreaded yet most beloved
— the greatest empress of the last century, the woman
who tasted of life and power through the sweetest joys
to their bitter core.

We spent the first night at an inn on the outskirts of
a tiny village. It was a clean inn, too — very different
from those in south China. The great courtyard was
crowded with arriving carts. In the kitchen dozens of
tired mafus were noisily gulping huge bowls of maca-
roni, and others, stretched upon the kang, had already
become mere, shapeless bundles of dirty rags. After
dinner Smith and I wandered outside the court. An
open-air theater was in full operation a few yards from
the inn, and all the village had gathered in the street.

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 259

But we were of more interest to the audience than the
drama itself, and in an instant a score of men and women
had surrounded us. They were all good-natured but
frankly curious. Finally an old man joined the crowd.
"Why," said he, "there are two foreigners!" Immedi-
ately the hum of voices ceased, for Age was speaking.
"They've got foreign clothes," he exclaimed; "and what
funny hats ! It is true that foreign hats are much big-
ger than Chinese caps, and they cost a lot more, too!
See that gun the tall one is carrying! He could shoot
those pigeons over there as easily as not — all of them
with one shot — probably he will in a minute."

The old man continued the lecture until we strolled
back to the inn. Undoubtedly he is still discussing us,
for there is little to talk about in a Chinese village, ex-
cept crops and weather and local gossip.

We reached the Eastern Tombs in the late afternoon
of the same day. Emerging from a rocky gateway on
the summit of a hill, we had the whole panorama of the
Tung Ling spread out before us. It was like a vast
green sea where wave after wave of splendid forests
rolled away to the blue haze of distant mountains.

The islands in this forest-ocean were the yellow-roofed
tombs, which gave back the sun in a thousand points of
golden light. After the monotonous brown of the bare
north China hills, the vivid green of the trees was as
refreshing as finding an unknown oasis in a sandy des-
ert. To the right was the picturesque village of Ma-
lin-yii, the residence of Duke Chou.

From the wide veranda of the charming temple which

260 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

we were invited to occupy we could look across the brown
village to the splendid park and the glistening yellow
roofs of the imperial tombs. We found next day that
it is a veritable paradise, a spot of exquisite beauty
where profound artistic sentiment has been magnifi-
cently expressed. Broad, paved avenues, bordered by
colossal animals sculptured in snow-white marble, lead
through the trees to imposing gates of red and gold.
There is, too, a delightful appreciation of climax. As
one walks up a spacious avenue, passing through gate
after gate, each more magnificent than the last, one is
being prepared by this cumulative splendor for the tomb
itself. One feels everywhere the dignity of space.
There is no smallness, no crowding. One feels the great-
ness of the people that has done these things: a race that
looks at life and death with a vision as broad as the skies
themselves.

At the Tvm^g Ling Nature has worked hand in hand
with man to produce a harmonious whole. Most of the
trees about the tombs have been planted, but the work
has been cleverly done. There is nothing glaringly
artificial, and you feel as though you were in a well-
groomed forest where every tree has grown just where,
in Nature's scheme of things, it ought to be.

Although the tombs are alike in general plan, they
are, at the same time, as individual as were the emperors
themselves. Each is a subtle expression of the character
of the one who sleeps beneath the yellow roof. The
tomb of Ch'ien-Lung, the artist emperor, lies not far
away from that of the Empress Dowager. Stately,

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 261

beautiful in its simplicity, it is an indication of his life
and deeds. In striking contrast is the palace built by
the Empress for her eternal dwelling. A woman of
iron will, holding her place by force and intrigue, a lover
of lavish display — she has expressed it all in her gor-
geous tomb. The extravagance of its decoration and
the wealth of gold and silver seem to declare to all the
world her desire to be known even in death as the great-
est of the great. It is said that her tomb cost ten million
dollars, and I can well believe it. But a hundred years
from now, when Ch'ien-Lung's mausoleum, like the
painting of an old master, has grown even more beauti-
ful by the touch of age, that of the Empress will be
worn and tarnished.

Charmed with the calm, the peace, the exquisite
beauty of the spot, we spent a delightful day wandering
among the red and gold pavilions. But fascinating as
were the tombs, we were really concerned with the "hin-
terland," the hunting park itself. Sixty miles to the
north, but still within the walls, are towering mountains
and glorious forests; these were what we had come to
see.

All day, behind three tiny donkeys, we followed a
tortuous, foaming stream in the bottom of a splendid
valley, ever going upward. At night we slept in the
open, and next day crossed the mountain into a forest
of oak and pine sprinkled with silver birches. Hun-
dreds of wood-cutters passed us on the trail, each car-
rying a single log upon his back. Before we reached
the village of Shing Lung-shan we came into an area

26^ ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

of desolation. Thousands of splendid trees were lying
in a chaos of charred and blackened trunks. It was the
wantonness of it all that depressed and horrified me.

The reason was perfectly apparent. On every bit of
open ground Manchu farmers were at work with plow
and hoe. The land was being cleared for cultivation,
regardless of all else. North China has very little tim-
ber— so little, in fact, that one longs passionately to get
away from the bare hills. Yet in this forest-paradise
the trees were being sacrificed relentlessly simply to ob-
tain a few more acres on which the farmer could grow
his crops. If it had to be done — and Heaven knows it
need not have been — the trees might have been utilized
for timber. Many have been cut, of course, but thou-
sands upon thousands have been burned simply to clear
the hillside.

At Shing Lung-shan we met our hunters and con-
tinued up the valley for three hours. With every mile
there were fewer open spaces ; we had come to a region
of vast mountains, gloomy valleys, and heavy forests.
The scenery was superb ! It thrilled me as did the moun-
tains of Yiin-nan and the gorges of the Yangtze. Yet
all this grandeur is less than one hundred miles from
Peking!

On a little ridge between two foaming streams we
made our camp in the forest. From the door of the
tent we could look over the tops of the trees into the
blue distance of the valley; behind us was a wall of for-
ests broken only by the winding corridor of the moun-
tain torrent.

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 263

We had come to the Tung Ling especially to obtain
specimens of the sika deer (Cervus hortulorum) and
the Reeves's pheasant {Syrmatictcs reevesi). The for-
mer, a noble animal about the size of our Virginia deer
in America, has become exceedingly rare in north China.
The latter, one of the most beautiful of living birds, is
found now in only two localities — near Ichang on the
Yangtze River, and at the Tung Ling, When the for-
ests of the Eastern Tombs have been cleared this species
will be extinct in all north China.

Early in the morning we left with six hunters. Our
way led up the bottom of the valley toward a mountain
ridge north of camp. As we walked along the trail,
suddenly one of the hunters caught me by the arm and
whispered, "Sang-cM' (wild chicken). There was a
whir of wings, a flash of gold — and I registered a clean
miss I The bird alighted on the mountain side, and in
the bliss of ignorance Smith and I dashed after it. Ten
minutes later we were exhausted from the climb and the
pheasant had disappeared. We learned soon that it is
useless to chase a Reeves's pheasant when it has once
been flushed, for it will invariably make for a mountain
side, run rapidly to the top, and, once over the summit,
fly to another ridge.

On the way home I got my first pheasant, and an
hour later put up half a dozen. I should have had two
more, but instead of shooting I only stared, fascinated
by the beauty of the thing I saw. It was late in the
afternoon and the sun was drawing oblique paths of
shimmering golden hght among the trees. In a clearing

«64 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

near the summit of a wooded shoulder I saw six pheas-
ants feeding and I realized that, by skirting the base of
the ridge, I could slip up from behind and force them
to fly across the open valley. The stalk progressed ac-
cording to schedule. When I crossed the ridge there
was a whir of wings and six birds shot into the air not
thirty feet away. The sun, glancing on their yellow
backs and streaming plumes, transformed them into
golden balls, each one with a comet-trail of living
fire.

The picture was so indescribably beautiful that I
watched them sail across the valley with the gun idle in
my hands. Not for worlds would I have turned one of
those glorious birds into a crumpled mass of flesh and
feathers. For centuries the barred tail plumes, which
sometimes are six feet long, have been worn by Chinese
actors, and the bird is famous in their literature. It
will be a real tragedy when this species has passed out
of the fauna of north China, as it will do inevitably if
the wanton destruction of the Timg Ling forests is con-
tinued unchecked.

The next afternoon four sika deer gave me a hard
chase up and down three mountain ridges. Finally, We
located the animals in a deep valley, and I had an oppor-
tunity to examine them through my glasses. Much to
my disgust I saw that the velvet was not yet ofl* the
antlers and that their winter coats were only partly shed.
They were valueless as specimens and forthwith I aban-
doned the hunt. Before leaving Peking I had visited
the zoological garden to make sure that the captive

I

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 265

sika had assumed their summer dress and antlers. But
at the Twng Ling, spring had not yet arrived, and the
animals were late in losing their winter hair.

In summer the sika is the most beautiful of all deer.
Its bright red body, spotted with white, is, when seen
among the green leaves of the forest, one of the loveliest
things in nature. We wished to obtain a group of these
splendid animals for the new Hall of Asiatic Life in
the American Museum of Natural History, but the
specimens had to be in perfect summer dress.

My hunter was disgusted beyond expression when I
refused to shoot the deer. The antlers of the sika when
in the velvet are of greater value to the natives than
those of any other species. A good pair of horns in full
velvet sometimes sells for as much as $450. The grow-
ing antlers are called shueh-chiao (blood horns) by the
Chinese, who consider them of the highest efficacy as a
remedy for certain diseases. Therefore, the animals are
persecuted relentlessly and very few remain even in the
Ttmg Ling.

The antlers of the wapiti are also of great value to
the native druggists, but strangely enough they care
little for those of the moose and the roebuck. Hundreds
of thousand of deerhorns are sent from the interior prov-
inces of China to be sold in the large cities, and the com-
plete extermination of certain species is only a matter
of a few decades. Moreover, the female elk, just before
the calving season, receive unmerciful persecution, for
it is believed that the unborn fawns have great medicinal
properties.

266 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

Since the roebuck at the Tung Ling were in the same
condition as the sika, they were useless for our purposes.
The goral, however, which live high up on the rocky-
peaks, had not begun to shed their hair, and they gave
us good shooting. One beautiful morning Smith killed
a splendid ram just above our camp. We had often
looked at a ragged, granite outcrop, sparsely covered
with spruce and pine trees, which towered a thousand
feet above us. We were sure there must be goral some-
where on the ridge, and the hunters told us that they
had sometimes killed them there. It was a stiff climb,
and we were glad to rest when we reached the summit.
The old hunter placed Smith opposite an almost per-
pendicular face of rock and stationed me beyond him on
the other side. Three beaters had climbed the mountain
a mile below us and were driving up the ridge.

For half an hour I lay stretched out in the sun lux-
uriating in the warmth and breathing in the fragrant
odor, of the pines. While I was lazily watching a Chi-
nese green woodpecker searching for grubs in a tree
near by, there came the faintest sound of a loosened
pebble on the cliflf above my head. Instantly I was alert
and tense. A second later Smith's rifle banged once.
Then all was still.

In a few moments he shouted to me that he had fired
at a big goral, but that it had disappeared behind the
ridge and he was afraid it had not been hit. The old
hunter, however, had seen the animal scramble into a
tiny grove of pine trees. As it had not emerged, I was
sure the goral was wounded, and when the men climbed

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 267

up the cliff they found it dead, bored neatly through the
center of the chest.

Gorals, sika, and roebuck are by no means the only
big game animals in the Tung Ling, Bears and leop-
ards are not uncommon, and occasionally a tiger is killed
by the natives. Among other species is a huge flying
squirrel, nearly three feet long, badgers, and chipmunks,
a beautiful squirrel with tufted ears which is almost
black in summer and now is very rare, and dozens of
small animals. But perhaps most interesting of all the
creatures of these noble forests are the only wild mon-
keys to be found in northeastern China.

The birds are remarkable in variety and numbers.
Besides the Reeves's pheasant, of which I have spoken,
there are two other species of this most beautiful family.
One, the common ring-necked pheasant, is very abun-
dant ; the other is the rare Pucrasia, a gray bird with a
dark-red breast, and a yellow striped head surmounted
by a conspicuous crest. It is purely a mountain form
requiring a mixed forest of pine and oak and, although
more widely distributed than the Reeves's pheasant, it
occurs in comparatively few localities of north China.

One morning as Smith and I were coming back from
hunting we saw our three boys perched upon a ledge
above the stream peering into the water. They called
to us, "Would you like some fish?" "Of course," we
answered, "but how can you get them?"

In a second they had slipped from the rock and were
stripping off their clothes. Then one went to the shal-
lows at the lower end of the pool and began to beat the

268 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

surface with a leafy branch, while the other two crouched
on the bowlders in midstream. Suddenly, one of the
boys plunged his head and arms into the water and
emerged with a beautiful speckled trout clutched tightly
in both hands. He had seen the fish swim beneath the
rock where it was cornered and had caught it before it
could escape.

For an hour the two boys sat like kingfishers, abso-
lutely motionless except when they dived into the water.
Of course, they often missed ; but when we were ready
to go home they had eight beautiful trout, several of
them weighing as much as two pounds. The stream was
full of fish, and we would have given worlds for a rod
and flies.

Lii baked a loaf of corn bread in his curious little
oven made from a Standard Oil tin, and we found a
jar of honey in our stores. Brook trout fried in deep
bacon fat, regular "southern style" corn bread and
honey, apple pie, coffee, and cigarettes — ^the "hardships
of camping in the Orient!"

When we had been in camp a week we awoke one
morning to find a heavy cloud of smoke drifting up the
valley. Evidently a tremendous fire was raging, and
Smith and I set out at once on a tour of investigation.
A mile down the valley we saw the whole mountain side
ablaze. It was a beautiful sight, I admit, but the de-
struction of that magnificent forest appalled us. For-
tunately, the wind was blowing strongly from the east,
and there was no danger that the fire might sweep north-
ward in the direction of our camp. As we emerged into

THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 269

a tiny clearing, occupied by a single log hut, we saw two
Chinese sitting on their heels, placidly watching the
roaring furnace across the valley.

With a good deal of excitement we asked them how
the fire possibly could have originated.

"Oh," said one, "we started it ourselves." In the
name of the five gods why did you do it?'* Smith asked.
"Well, you see," returned the Chinese, "there was quite
a lot of brush here in our clearing and we had to get rid
of it. To-day the wind was right, so we set it on fire."

"But don't you see that you have burned up that
whole mountain's side, destroyed thousands of trees,
and absolutely ruined this end of the valley?"

"Oh, yes, but never mind; it can't be helped," the
native answered. Then I exploded. I frankly confess
that I cursed that Chinese and all his ancestors; which
is the only proper way to curse in China. I assured him
that he was an "old rabbit" and that his father and his
grandfather and his great-grandfather were rabbits.
To tell a man that he is even remotely connected with
a rabbit is decidedly uncomplimentary in China.

But when it was all said I had accomplished nothing.
The man looked at me in blank amazement as though I
had suddenly lost my mind. He had not the faintest
idea that burning up that beautiful forest was reprehen-
sible in the slightest degree. To him and all his kind,
the only thing worth while was to clear that bit of land
in the valley. If every tree on the mountain was de-
stroyed in the process, what difference did it make? It
would be done eventually, anyway. Land, whether it

270 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS

be on a hill or in a valley, was made to grow crops and
to be cultivated by Chinese farmers.

The wanton destruction which is being wrought at
the Tung Ling makes me sick at heart. Here is one of
the most beautiful spots in all China, within less than
one hundred miles of Peking, which is being ruined ut-
terly as fast as ax and fire can do the work. One can
travel the length and breadth of the whole Republic and
not find elsewhere so much glorious scenery in so small
a space. Moreover, it is the last sanctuary of much of
north China's wild life. When the forests of the Timg
Ling are gone, half a dozen species of birds and mam-
mals will become extinct. How much of the original
flora of north China exists to-day only in these forests
I would not dare say, for I am not a botanist, but it
can be hardly less than the fauna of which I know.

If China could but realize before it is too late how
priceless a treasure is being hewed and burned to noth-
ingness and take the first step in conservation by making
a National Park of the Eastern Tombs !

Politically there are difficulties, it is true. The Tung
Ling, and all the surroundings, as I have said, belong
unquestionably to the Manchus, and they can do as they
wish with their own. But it is largely a question of
money, and were the Republic to pay the price for the
forests and mountains beyond the Tombs it would not
be difficult to do the rest. No country on earth ever had
a more splendid opportunity to create for the genera-
tions of the present and the future a living memorial to
its glorious past. ^^j, ^-^^^

INDEX

Aeroplanes, 182

Altai Mountains, 182

American Museum of Natu-
ral History, Asiatic Ex-
plorations of, vii; trustees of,
viii, ix.

Anderson, Dr. J. G., Mining Ad-
viser to Chinese Republic, ix,

39
Anderson, Meyer and Co., assist-
ance rendered to expedition

by, ix, 82, 138, 173
Andrews, Yvette B., extract

from "Journal" of, 46, 47
Antelope, description of hunt

for, 15, 107; speed of, 23, 44,

97,106, 118
'Anthropoides virgo, 11, 42, 55,

88, 91, 93
Argali, 174, 186, 197, 201, 210,

212
Argul, desert fuel, 11, 24, 84
Asia, viii

Asia Magazine, ix
Asian plateau, viii
Asiatic mammals, viii
Asiatic zoological explorations,

vii
Asses, wild (Equus hemionus),

88
Atunzi, 169
Avocets, 42

Baikal Lake, 25

Barker, Major Austin, 213, 215,

217
Beach, Rex, quoted, 186
Bear, 67

Bennett, C. R., ix
Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs.

Charles L., viii
Bighorn sheep {Argali), 87, 174,

186
Boar, 67, 171
Bogdo-ol (God's Mountain), 62,

67, 88, 99, 142, 151
Bolsheviki, 25, 32
Bolshevism, xii
Buriats, xiii
Burma, vii, 2
Bustard, 23, 61, 95

Caldwell, Rev. Harry R., 186,

191, 195, 203, 212, 216, 225,

232, 242
Canadian Pacific Ocean Service,

transportation to America of

collections by, x
Capreolus bedfordi, 232
Caravans, camel, IS, 27, 62, 66,

91
Casarca casarca, 94
Castle, Rev. H., x
Cathay, 1, 64
Cervus hortulorum, 263

271

272

INDEX

Cheetah, 130

Che-kiang, Province of, x, 38

Chen, Chinese taxidermist, 39>
164

Chinese, xi, 8, 63, 75, 79

Chinese Turkestan, 182

Chou, Duke, 257

Citellus mongolicus umhratus,
42

Coltman, Charles L., Mr. and
Mrs., ix, 2, 14, 25, 31, 47, 60,
150, 185

Cranes, 6l ; demoiselle, 11, 42,
55, 88, 91, 93

Cricetulus, 131

Cunningham, Hon. E. S., Amer-
ican Consul General, x

Cygnopsis cygnoides, 94

Czechs, 26, 32

Dane, Sir Richard, 185

Da Wat Mountain, camped at

foot of, 144
Delco Electric lighting plant,

39, 60
De Tarascon, Tartarin, 47
Dogs, 9, 76
Dorchy, Tserin, 144, 146, 149,

151, 153, 155, 161, 163, 165,

170, 172
Ducks, mallard, 11, 42, 95;

ducks, shoveler, 42, 95

Eagles, 11
Elk, 67, 238
Equus hemionus, 88
Equus prejevalski, 87
Eulabeia indica, 95

Fabalis anser, 95
Fauna, Mongolian, vii
Faxon, H. C, ix
Feng-chen, 187, 181
Fuel, 11

Gasella gutturosa, 127; Gazella

prejevalski, 127; Gazella sub-

gutturosa, 127
Gazelles, 47, 48, 127
Genghis Khan, xi, 3, 71, 84
Gillis, I. v., ix
Gobi Desert, 1, 15, 27, 43, 62,

77, 128, 175, 181
God's Mountain (Bogdo-ol),

62, 67, 151
Goose, bar-headed, 95; bean, 95
Gophers (Citellus mongolicus

umbratus), 42, 99
Goral, 194, 231, 234, 266
Great Wall of China, 2, 4, 8
Grouse, sand, 23
Guptil, A. M., ix, 25, 26, 28,

29, 31, 33, 37, 173

Hami, 182

Hamster, desert (Cricetulus),

131
Hares, 6l

Harper's Magazine, ix
Hei-ma-hou, 3, 4, 5, 7, 11, 33,

39
Holcomb, Captain Thomas, 220
Honan, 38
Horses, wild (Equus prejeval-

sJci), 87
Ho-shun, 243
Hsi Ling, 257
Hsu Shu-tseng, General, xiii,

141

INDEX

27S

Hupeh, 38

Hutchins, C. T., Naval Attache,

American Legation, ix, 213
Hutukhtu, the Living Buddha,

xii, xiii, 3, 60, 67, 68, 71

Ibex, 87

Irkutsk, 25, 29, 32

Jackson, G. M., General Pas-
senger Agent, Canadian Pacific
Ocean Service, appreciation
for assistance in transporta-
tion of collections by, x

Jardine, Matheson and Co., of
Shanghai, 44

Kalgan, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 13, 15, 28,
29, 33, 35, 36, 39, 44, 99, 127,
142, 176, 182, 183

Kang, Chinese taxidermist, 39

Kang Hsi, Emperor, xiii

Kao-chia-chuang, 243, 246

Kendrick, J., ix

Khans, 63

Kiakhta, xiv, 179, 183

Kobdo, 182

Korostovetz, M., xii

Kublai Khan, xi, 1, 7, 71, 160

Kwei-hua-cheng, 183, 193, 203

Lake Baikal, 25

Lama church, 71

Lama City, 76, 79

Lamaism, xi, 71

Lamas, 14, 24, 62; monastery

of, 14
Lapwing (Fanellus vanellus),

94
Lapwings, 11

Larsen, F. A., ix, 9, 81, 118y
141, 176

"Little Hsu," xiii

Loo-choo Islands, 31

Lucander, Mr. and Mrs., 3, 5,
18, 69, 79

Lucas, Dr. F. A., acknowledg-
ment to, viii

Lii, cook for expedition, 39, 85,
117

Lung Chi'en, Emperor, tomb of,
260

MacCallie, Mr. and Mrs. E. L.,
X, 39, 4:3, 46, 48, 50, 53, 54,
57, 61, 75, 103, 164, 173

Magyars, 25, 32

Mai-ma-cheng, 62, 141, 173

Mallards, 192

Ma-lin-yu, residence of Duke
Chou, 259

Ma-lu, 223, 225

Mamen, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar,
X, 3, 25, 28, 61, 69, 103, 173

Mammals, Asiatic, viii

Manchu, xi; dynasty of, xiv

Manchus, 8

Mannlicher, 173, 239

Marmota robusta, 101

Marmot, 25, 52, 6l, 88, 99, 100;
Mongols* method of captur-
ing, 103, 174, 178

Mauser, 16

Meadow mice (Micratus), 93

Memorial addressed to Presi-
dent of Chinese Republic, xiii

Micr&tus, 93, 100, 131

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ix

Mongolia, fauna of, vii; religion
of, 71

274

INDEX

Mongolian Trading Company/

25
Mongols, 8, 22, 41, 43; dislike

for the body of the dead, 74 ;

dress of, 21, 64, 65; food of,

78; manner of riding of, 21;

manner of catching trout by,

164; morals of, 78; Southern,

10
Motion picture photography, 47,

50, 136
Motor cars, 2, 3, 43, 50, 58, 62,

66, 84, 134, 174, 182; Ford,

28; hunting from, 109;

troubles with, 13, 27, 150
Musk deer, 169, 170
Mustela, 110

Naha, 31

Na-mon-gin, Mongol hunter,

195, 196, 205, 210, 213, 232,

236
Nankou Pass, 2
Natural History, ix
Nemorhcedus caudatus, 234
Nemorhcedus griseus, 234

Olufsen, E. V., ix, 82, 138, 142

Omsk, 32

Orlow, A., Russian Diplomatic

Agent, X, 88
Osborn, Henry Fairfield, viii,

18
Outer Mongolia, xii, 41
Ovis comosa, 186
Ovis jubata, 186
Owen, 39, 50

Panj-kiang, telegraph station at,
14, 22, 31, 44, 54, 128

Pan-yang wild sheep, 176,

180, 194, 201, 214
Peck, Willys, ix
Peking, 1, 26, 29, 37, 173, 178,

183
Peking-Hankow Railroad, 242
Peking Press, quoted from, xiii-

XV

Peking-Suiyuan Railway, 44 ;

motor service of, 180
Perry, Commodore, 31
Pheasant, Reeves's (Syrmaticus

reevesi)f 263
Photography, motion picture, 47,

50, 136
Ping-ting-cho, 242
Plover, 11, 45, 95
Pluvialis dominicus fulvus, 45
Polecat (MuHela), 110
Polo, Marco, 12
Prayer wheels, 73, 80
President, Chinese Republic,

Memorial addressed to, xiii
Price, Ernest B., ix, 25, 33
Prisons, description of, 80
Pucrasia, 267

Rat, kangaroo (Alactaga mon-

golicaf), 132
Ravens, 11
Red Army, xiv
Redheads, 95
Reinsch, Paul S., ix
Rifles used on expedition ; Mann-

licher, 173, 234; Savage, 16
Rockefeller Foundation, 100
Roebuck, 67, 154, 163, 194, 231,

243
RupicaprincB, 234
Russia, xii, xiv

INDEX

275

Russian Consulate, 63
Russians, xii, 13, 67
Russo-Chinese, xii

Sain Noin Khan, 87, 88, 97

Savage rifle, 16

Serow, 38, 234

Shanghai, 183

Shansi Mountains, 5

Shantung, 88

Sheep, bighorn, 205

Sheldrake {Casarca casarca),

42, 94
Shensi, 182
Sherwood, George H., assistance

rendered to expedition by,

viii
Shing Lung-shan, 261
Shuri, Palace, 32
Sian-fu, 182
Siberian frontier, 179
Sika deer (Cervus hortulorum) ,

Skylarks, 93

Smith, E. G., ix, 242, 244, 246,

250, 253, 256
Stefansson, 87
Swan geese (Cygnopsis cyg-

noides), 94
Syrmaticus reevesi, 263

Tabool, 9, 10
Tai Hai, 191
Tai yuan-fu, 243
Takin, 234
Tanu Ulianghai, xiv
Tao Kwang, Emperor, xiii
Teal, 11, 42

Telegraph poles, method of pro-
tection of, 11

Tenney, Dr. C. D., ix
Tent, American wall, 90; Mon-
gol, 85, 90
Terelche region, 172
Terelche River, 143, 147
Terelche Valley, 157
Tibet, vii, 106
Tientsin, 178, 183
Tola River, 25, 28, 62, 68, 70,

88, 91, 99, 158, 161, 164
Tola Valley, 67
Tombs, 257

Trans-Pacific Magazine, ix
Trans-Siberian Railroad, 183
Trout, manner of catching by

Mongols, 164
Tsai Tse, Duke, visit to palace

of, 256
Tung-cho, 258
Tung-Ling, 257; pheasants and

deer found at, 263
Turin, 29, 31, 61, 104, 176,

180; lamasery at, 23
Tziloa, pigs found at, 245
Tz*u-hsi, Dowager Empress,

funeral of, 258

Ude, telegraph station, 22, 31,

55
Uliassutai, 178, 182
Urga, important fur market,

173, 178, 182
Urumchi, 182

Verkin Udinsk, 183
Vole, meadow (Microtut), 100,
131

Wai Chiao Pu, (Ministry of
Foreign Affairs), ix

276

INDEX

Wapiti, 164, 168, 172, 228, 231
Warner, Langdon, 31, 32
Weatherall, M. E., ix
Weinz, Father, Belgian priest,

35
Wells, description of, 13
White Army, xiv
Wilder, Dr. George D., ix, 256
Wireless station in course of

erection, 182
Wolf, 61, 67

Wu Liang Taj en Hutung, 38,

257
Wu-shi-tu, 234
Wu-tai-hai, 219, 221, 235

Yangsen, Loobitsan, Duke, 137,

140, 144, 152
Yero mines, gold found at, 179
Yiin-nan, vii, 2, 106
Yurtt Mongol house, description

of, 10, 57, 63

(I)

I

I

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